


Close Encounters of the Spiritual Kind

by Doodlelolly0910



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan Supernatural Summer, Dead People, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Ghosts, Slow Burn, Smut, Talking To Dead People, Undercover Missions, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-06-11 14:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 72,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15317583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodlelolly0910/pseuds/Doodlelolly0910
Summary: Emma Nolan spent a lot of time alone, and that was fine by her. Because one is never truly alone. She should know. She can talk to dead people. What she didn't expect was one of these spiritual encounters to hang around, taking her down a rabbit hole of missing women, revenge, and, least expected, love. Can she save the day and Killian Jones? Is there even another choice?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ohhhhh man. I can't believe it's finally here! This has been a labor of love for me for the past few months, and it's kinda weird to actually have other people besides me and @kmomof4 read it lol. I hope you guys love it. And speaking of @kmomof4, I have to say a very special thank you to her for her beta skills and just for being a fantastic person and friend while I freaked out on the daily over this project lol. Without further ado, I give you my contribution to the 2018 Captain Swan Supernatural Summer!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhhh man. I can't believe it's finally here! This has been a labor of love for me for the past few months, and it's kinda weird to actually have other people besides me and @kmomof4 read it lol. I hope you guys love it. And speaking of @kmomof4, I have to say a very special thank you to her for her beta skills and just for being a fantastic person and friend while I freaked out on the daily over this project lol. The beautiful, amazing cover art for this fic is brought to you by @courtorderedcake on Tumblr and will be at the top of each chapter because I love it SO MUCH! Without further ado, I give you my contribution to the 2018 Captain Swan Supernatural Summer!

It had been three days, twelve hours, and forty seven minutes since Emma Nolan had her last encounter. That's what she called them, not like she had a point of reference for this sort of thing. 'Encounter' seemed to fit. What else do you call it when a dead person sends you messages from beyond?  
  
Encounters for Emma came in many different manifestations. Sometimes she would get a glimpse of a life once lived, images of a face, or a house, different places or things. Other times, she would hear a quick snippet of a conversation. Stronger connections she could hear them speak directly to her, usually just one or two words. Other times, she would get a whiff of something. Perfume, or home cooking. Once or twice, they had even come to her in a dream . She was always waiting for the one encounter that never came, though.  
  
Emma first started noticing the encounters when she was ten years old and her grandmother passed unexpectedly. She had been very close to her father's mother, Ruth, and had been devastated at her passing. She was the only grandparent that Emma had ever known, her mother's parents and her father's father having passed before she was born. She thought she was going crazy at first, or imagining things. She would smell her grandmother's cookies, or hear her laugh. When Ruth appeared in her dreams for the first time, she had been ecstatic. She had her beloved Nana back in some fashion. She could still seek her advice and comfort, not quite as often as she would have liked, but it was better than nothing. Her grandmother's visits were few and far between, after all. Emma would often get restless waiting for her to appear. She secretly wished for more spirits to talk to.  
  
And because of that wish, she blamed herself when her parents died two short years later in a car accident, even though she never had a single encounter with them. After the loss of her parents, Emma was sent to live with her mother's younger cousin Ruby, who was only five years older than Emma herself, and Ruby's grandmother, the only family she had left. She and her grandmother, affectionately referred to as Granny, doted on Emma but she became very closed off and bitter into her teenage years. She carried much of that hardness with her to this day. She wasn't the same in a world without David and Mary Margaret Nolan. There was a particularly difficult time when Emma refused to wear anything but Mary Margaret's frilly floral blouses or David's oversized flannels. She had discovered some time ago that she could prompt visits from her grandmother by wrapping herself in one of her quilts and assumed it would be the same for her parents.  
  
It wasn't.  
  
She gradually started wearing the clothing less and less, hanging on to a couple of things here and there. Until one day, when she was 16, Emma packed up every stitch of anything they'd ever touched and packed it away, never to be seen again, furious at herself for not being able to make the connection. The only things she kept from her parents were their wedding rings and her mother's engagement ring. They hung on a long chain around her neck and under no circumstances were they ever removed . She never told Ruby or Granny of her encounters, or anyone else for that matter, because she knew they would either think she was crazy or the inevitable demand to contact her parents would come. She couldn't let them down like that. So in enough time, she stopped reaching for her grandmother's quilts as well. It was easier to encounter spirits she didn't have a personal connection to.  
  
The last encounter she had came about because she had picked up a shirt in a thrift shop. It was a brief encounter, just a vision of the letters J and K. Nothing spectacular. Things like this often happened when she touched something that belonged to a person that had passed on. It happened _a lot_ in secondhand shops, which happened to be where Emma preferred to shop for clothes. It was thrifty and she often found some cute buys. She was surprised at first when she made the discovery of the encounters in such places, though. She hadn't given much thought to where clothes in the local Goodwill came from. Logically, she knew that people donated the clothes, but she had never thought before that of course people must donate a good portion of their loved ones' clothes after they died. It didn't bother her though. It's not like she was wearing the clothes these people were buried in. Plus, she got some pretty fascinating insights from these clothes sometimes. She didn't end up buying the shirt that gave her the vision of the letters, but they lingered at the back of her mind, nagging at her until she pulled her leather bound journal from her messenger bag and wrote them down.  
  
And here now, three days, twelve hours, and forty seven minutes later, sitting alone in her affordable little apartment, she had pulled her journal back out. She had completely forgotten about that previous encounter when the letters jumped out of the page at her again. She ran her finger along the edge of the letter J, and then the K. She suddenly smelled jasmine and heard a female voice murmuring in her head.  
  
_Wrong. Change it. Wrong. Change it._  
  
What the hell did that mean? She frowned at the letters as they swam through her head and she wrote them down again and again, varying the letters in size and style, from cursive to print, from big to small. She even reversed the letters so they read _K J_ rather than _J K_ as she had been writing. Once she did that, the murmurs stopped. She still smelled jasmine clinging to the air.  
  
_K J_ .  
  
"Huh? Wonder what that means." It was more of a statement than an inquisition but a shudder crept up her spine as she said it, giving her pause. She shook her head free of the sensation and got up to retrieve her ramen noodles from the microwave, sticking her pen in the messy bun as she went. She had almost made it back to the couch, ready to immerse herself back in the newest case file she had been going over when a jolt of pain flashed through her head.  
  
"What the hell?!" she growled as her noodles sloshed over the side of the bowl and her free hand shot to her temple. She righted her food bowl and set it on the coffee table next to where she had left her case sheets and journal. The fragrance of jasmine was near overwhelming now. Sitting down on the blue gingham couch where she had effectively set up shop for the day, she removed her large black-rimmed glasses from her face and rubbed the bright green eyes she uncovered. As she pressed her fingers into her eyes, the letters began to swim in her head again, K's and J's encompassing everything.  
  
"Alright!" she shouted to the empty room, grabbing her journal. "Pushy bitch," she muttered. She hadn't had an encounter with someone so _persistent_ in some time. Hell, maybe ever. And she didn't even know anything beyond the letters she had scribbled down. And that they smelled like jasmine. Female, she was certain, based on the perfume and what little she heard of a voice. Foreign? She thought she caught an accent. She flipped open the journal, pushing the case file to the side for now, and pulled the pen from her bun. She stared at the page holding the different combinations of the letters. She decided to start fresh. Turning the page, she rewrote the letters down ( _K_ then _J_ ) at the top of the blank space. She waited. The floral scent invaded her nose still but the murmurs were quiet. Her hand was poised in writing position, but nothing came. She waited a full minute. Still nothing.  
  
This was getting frustrating. Emma closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to hear the slightest whisper again. She should have bought the damn shirt at the Goodwill. That would have probably kickstarted _something_ . But if she bought every shirt she had an encounter with, she would have one very large and eclectic wardrobe. Still, she waited, trying to force a connection, some kind of contact. She took a deep breath through her nose and focused, feeling the ridge on the grip of her pen dig into the sensitive under flesh of her knuckle. She grit her teeth. She was going back to buy that stupid shirt tomorrow. Suddenly, she felt lighter and the botanical aroma that had surrounded her so thoroughly for the last half hour seemed to dissipate. All that remained was the smell of her now cold ramen and the A/C. Sterile and empty as usual.  
  
Blinking slowly, the room came back into focus and Emma frowned at the loss of connection. For someone so pushy, she didn't get far with whoever this person was. She shrugged and removed her hand from the journal and was about to reach for the case file when she glanced at the place where her hand had just been poised to write. She felt the blood drain from her face as two bold words she didn't even feel herself writing stared back at her from the blank space.  
  
**SAVE HIM.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I forgot to say in my first author's note that I'll be posting every Monday, so keep a lookout! I'm so so grateful to each and every one of you for giving this a chance and I'm so thrilled that you guys like it so far! As always, a ginormous thank you to the best beta in the world @kmomof4 whom I adore beyond measure! The amazing art you see is credited to @courtorderedcake and adore it and her! Without further ado, I give you chapter two!

What kind of can of worms had she just opened? She slammed the journal shut immediately, heart pounding against her ribcage. No, no, no, no, no. She was _nobody's_ personal savior. She reached out for the case file she had been studying and resolved to put this whole mess behind her. She just wouldn't feed into it. Simple.  
  
She set her glasses on her face and got back to work, losing herself in the case file for Marian Locksley. A young, vibrant mother who one day didn't pick up her four year old son from daycare and was never seen again. It had been two months at this point and the case was getting colder by the day. Emma was good at her job, but this case had been unusually difficult for her. After her promotion to detective in the missing persons department three years prior, she quickly developed one of the highest success rates in recovering missing persons in the country. She knew that her "abilities" played a large part in her skill set, but whatever edge she could give herself she figured was worth the results. Closure. Reuniting loved ones. Making things a little less broken. Maybe she had a bigger savior complex than she realized. So, she lost herself in the file in front of her until her eyes ached and the clock on the wall beeped out an arrival into a new day.  
  
That night, she slept fitfully, dark dreams and empty spaces. Once or twice, she thought she heard a man's voice, but it sounded far away, like he was talking behind several closed doors. She tried to make her way towards the voice, but then it would change direction. She began to feel lost, hopeless. The blackness seemed to claw at her physically, preventing her from moving. And then there was a soft light, as if it emanated from under a doorway and a gentle song hummed in the background.  
  
The song she had heard many times before, but she could never place it. At first, she thought it was another encounter. She often heard bits of voices or songs or different sounds when having an encounter, but this song persisted throughout her life, never fading like a regular encounter did. Emma heard the melody for the first time after her parents died. It appeared at times when she felt the lowest, when she felt hopeless and alone, or when she was overwhelmed. It was almost as if the song was tailor made to soothe her unsettled soul. Emma had long since chalked it up to a coping technique. One her dream self was inherently grateful for now. She relaxed against the darkness and moved towards the light. It grew brighter with every step she took and the song faded away as her curiosity and courage screwed themselves to their sticking places. Emma found herself in front of a door. Tentatively, she reached out and turned the cold handle and pushed.  
  
The room was empty and dimly lit, and not so much a room at all, moreso a large open space that Emma could not see the end of. But that didn't matter when the light illuminated a tall man standing beyond the door, his large frame seemingly filling the emptiness. He was handsome, very stern and sad looking. Short copper curls caught the light and blue eyes stared into her at her place at the door. Emma could almost feel his worry rolling off of him and she moved towards him automatically. When they came close enough to where Emma had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes in accommodation for his height, the man reached out and grasped her arm firmly. Emma tried to pull away but his bright blue gaze fixed her in place.  
  
" _His name is Killian Jones_ ," the man said in a deep British accent and tightened his grip on her arm to the point of pain, as if he was trying to hold her there with him. He opened his mouth to say something else but all that came out was a shrill beeping noise.  
  
Emma shot up in bed gasping as her alarm clock continued its shrieking cadence in the background. It took a moment to shake off the dream, grasping at the details on the edge of her conscious mind. Absently, she reached behind her to cut off the annoyance that was her alarm clock and her bicep protested against the stretch. She drew back with a soft sound after the beeping stopped and looked at the bare skin of her upper arm. A faded blue bruise marred the skin there that looked remarkably like a...  
  
A handprint.  
  
Emma's mouth dropped open. This was new. She'd never had a physical mark from a spirit before. A thrill of fear and validation ran through the core of her being, sending a shiver up her spine. Even though Emma had learned to cope with the fact that the other side filtered across the veil into her daily life, she had kept it to herself, suffering (and even rejoicing on occasion) in silence. But _this_. As terrifying as it was to be physically marked by a spirit, Emma couldn't help but feel so _sane_. Throughout her life with her encounters, Emma often felt... off. The thought that she might be crazy (cue midnight searches into schizophrenia and multiple personality disorders on more than one occasion) had crossed her mind more often than even she cared to admit. Yeah, her arm hurt a little, and fuck that guy for manhandling her like that, but it was _real_. A disbelieving, incredulous giggle garbled its way up her throat. She tried to tamp down the buzz under her skin and took several deep, calming breaths.  
  
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand next to the alarm clock and her head snapped to it, shaking away the hold of her thoughts, if only temporarily. Picking up the device, she flipped through the notifications she'd obtained, the most recent one and the culprit of the buzz she'd heard being from Ruby.  
  
**_Red 10:02 am_** _  
__Hey gf, u off today?_  
  
Emma smiled softly. Ruby was just the person she needed to take her mind off all the craziness with work and the... general craziness she was experiencing. Ruby was loud, vibrant, full of gossip, and moved at the speed of sound. She was a lot to handle but Emma wouldn't change her for anything. She was the one who brought Emma out of her shell after she took her in and felt all alone. Her brand of pep was exactly what Emma needed. So she texted back.  
  
**_Emma 10:04 am_** _  
__Off and free, lunch?_ _  
__  
_**_Red 10:05 am_** _  
__Lunch and..._ _  
__  
_**_Red 10:05 am_** _  
__Shopping?_  
  
Emma smirked at her screen. Ruby knew Emma hated shopping but would give her an honest opinion. She was also the only one that could rein in what would inevitably end up with more and more risqué fashion choices. Emma often wondered when shopping with Ruby why the woman bothered getting dressed at all sometimes. But it served as a good distraction, and that's just what Emma needed. But she couldn't appear to eager, lest Ruby drag her into these kinds of things on a regular basis. And Emma really didn't like to shop.  
  
**_Emma 10:06 am_** _  
__I expect bribery._ _  
__  
_**_Red 10:06 am_** _  
__Bribing a cop? What kind of desperate do you think I am? ;-)_ _  
__  
_**_Emma 10:07 am_** _  
__If ur asking me to shop in the 1st place, I'd say pretty desperate lol_ _  
__  
_**_Red 10:07 am_** _  
__..._ _  
__Lunch liquor?_ _  
__  
_**_Emma 10:07 am_** _  
__Sold lol_ _  
__  
_**_Red 10:08 am_** _  
__Kk meet u at Granny's 1 hr xoxo_  
  
Letting her phone clatter back to its former position on her bedside table, Emma swung her legs over the side of the bed and begrudgingly made her way out of her bedroom and into her modest bathroom, turning the faucet in the shower to hot. Steam rolled through the room as she set about removing her clothes, when she felt the twinge in her bicep again, reminding her of the night's events. She continued to dwell on it as she stepped into the warm spray.  
  
The man she saw hadn't been very old, close to her age, she'd say. But there was something about him that read older than his actual years. His stance was commanding, authoritative, but his eyes, although laced with sadness, had an underlying kindness and honesty to them. She tried to remember everything she could from the dream as she scrubbed her apple scented shampoo into her hair.  
  
' _His name is Killian Jones_ ,' he'd said. And that accent again. She'd heard a similar one not long ago, but female. Her mind flitted back to the first encounter with the woman.  
  
_K J_ _  
__  
__Killian Jones._ _  
__  
_**_SAVE HIM._**  
  
What the- the encounters were _connected_? In what seemed to be a continuing series of firsts with her abilities, now two separate people were reaching out to her with the same message? Emma wiped the water from her face and slicked back her long hair under the water, rinsing herself free of suds before wrenching it off. She was going to ignore it. That was it. This was too much. Wasn't it? But something about the earnestness in the eyes of the man from her dream gave her pause. She stepped out of the bathtub and began to towel off and dress.  
  
Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt just to look into it. It would probably be a dead end anyway. It was the first time more than one person had come through to her with the same message. And clearly, they thought she could help in some way, be it because she was a police detective, or that she was the only one nearby who could hear them, either way it _nagged_ at her and she hated it. She would look into it once, and if she came up empty she would pursue it no further. Besides, she could still just be crazy. A sharp ache where the bruise on her arm was imprinted begged to differ. She shook it off and made her way to Granny's with a plan on where to start already brewing in her mind.  
  
Granny's was busy, but the little diner was always bustling with activity. The decor hadn't been updated since God only knew when, the green vinyl covered booths patched with tape in some areas and the chrome lined countertop sported several dings, but it all added to the charm. A little piece of small town right in the big city. Boston had nowhere else like it. Ruby's grandmother had owned the little establishment and the inn attached to it for as long as she could remember. As Emma made her way past several customers to the counter, she couldn't help but notice all the familiar faces. Granny Lucas had built a legacy on good food, friendship, and nowhere else had felt quite like home since her parents died. It helped that the actual home she'd grown up in since she was 12 was right above the diner.  
  
"Emma!" Ruby's voice cut through the cacophony of the early lunch rush and the bubbly brunette bounced around the counter to greet her. Emma grinned at the sight of her before she was wrapped in a tight hug. "I've got our lunch order in already. Grab a booth for us will you? I'll be right back."  
  
"Sure, Red," Emma replied and Ruby smirked at the nickname before slipping back behind the counter and getting back to wrapping up work. Emma made her way towards the back, near the jukebox, and slid into an open booth. The seat creaked and groaned underneath her slight frame and she pulled out her phone to check for new messages. There was one waiting from Graham Humbert, her partner at the precinct and frequent seeker of her affections.  
  
**_Humbert 11:17 am_** _  
__Hey, can you bring the Locksley case file in tomorrow? Husband is coming in for update Thursday around 2._ _  
__  
_**_Emma 11:29 am_** _  
__Yeah I can do that._ _  
__  
_**_Humbert 11:30 am_** _  
__See you then ;-)_  
  
Emma was grateful that Graham left it professional today, though the winky face caused her to wrinkle her nose. She had tried with him before. One date about a year ago and a nice kiss at the end of it, but she just didn't feel the spark that he clearly had since he hadn't stopped asking her for a repeat since. It was always innocent, he was never pushy, but Emma turned him down just the same, often citing that it would be unprofessional to pursue a relationship with him. But the truth was, Emma Nolan was a broken human being. When her high school sweetheart, Neal Cassidy, the first person she opened her heart to, died unexpectedly when they were eighteen in a house fire, she struggled to recover. A couple disastrous relationships later, Emma had resigned herself to one night stands and being alone.  
  
Ruby dropped a plate in front of Emma noisily before setting her own plate across from her and settling their drinks beside them. Emma looked down at the plate of grilled cheese and onion rings and smiled, thankful for the thoughtfulness of her friend.  
  
"So. I have a date." Ruby smiled and took a bite of the burger on her own plate. Emma bobbed her head in acknowledgement. Ruby _always_ had a date.  
  
"Hence the shopping, I suppose," Emma said and took a sip of the fruity drink concoction next to her plate before making a face. "What _is_ that?"  
  
"Something I'm trying on the menu. I got you a Jack and Coke, too, in case that was too tropical for you." Ruby shrugged and Emma pushed the drink away, moving to the glass with the darker liquid. "And yes, I really want to impress this girl. I know you hate shopping, but I really _really_ need your opinion." She pouted and Emma chuckled.  
  
"So, is it anyone I know?" Emma asked before digging into her food. Ruby grinned widely.  
  
"It's Dorothy. That new bartender down at the Rabbit Hole," she replied nonchalantly. They chatted about the date and how they met, making comfortable small talk throughout their meal. As they finished, Ruby put on her puppy dog eyes again.  
  
"Shopping?" she asked hopefully. Emma gave an exaggerated sigh.  
  
"Shopping." Ruby squealed at Emma's acquiescence. "But I have something of my own that I saw a few days ago at the Goodwill that I didn't grab. I wanted to go back for it." Ruby's face lit up with shock, then delight, then indignation.  
  
"Wait, you went shopping? And you want to get something for _yourself_? And you went without _me_?!" Her words mirrored the emotions flitting over her features. Emma shrugged sheepishly.  
  
"Yes to all of those things. I'm sorry. But you're here now," Emma tried to placate her. Thankfully Ruby accepted it.  
  
"Yes and to the Goodwill it is! I'm so excited!"  
  
Several hours and skimpy outfits later, Ruby had her date outfit (along with a few others) and the floral blouse that started the madness days ago was nowhere to be found. Emma was beginning to get frustrated. She hated shopping with a passion. Fashion was never high on her priority list. Sure, she had a couple LBD's, a couple of pantsuits, but the majority of her wardrobe was about comfort. Give her some jeans and a tank any day. But she couldn't help but feel a little discouraged.  
  
That blouse was no guarantee, but it couldn't hurt. It could have been the key to getting rid of this pestering the fastest way possible. She couldn't shake the words from her mind.  
  
_Killian Jones._ _  
__  
_**_SAVE HIM_** _._  
  
Maybe he was missing. She could use her resources at the department to help with that. That's what she did, that's her comfort zone. But beyond that...  
  
She couldn't help the pang that went through her over the thought that she couldn't help him. He was obviously very loved, she was simply afraid of biting off more than she could chew.  
  
"Hey, Em! What about this one?"  
  
Emma turned to see Ruby's latest find and her eyes almost popped out of her skull when she saw Ruby holding a very _not_ her style, sleeveless, floral, button-front blouse to her lithe figure.  
  
"That's it," Emma said and Ruby looked at her quizzically. It was Ruby's usual style, certainly, but it definitely wasn't something she would have thought Emma would pick out for herself.  
  
"This one?" she asked.  
  
Emma moved forward and took the blouse from Ruby's hands and was immediately wrapped in an invisible jasmine embrace.  
  
"This is the one."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Another chapter! We're gonna see a little more of Emma's day to day in the precinct and some important info on the case she's working here. Also we're going to get our first "peek" at Killian Jones! Things are going to really pick up from here on out! As always, thank you thank you to my wonderful beta @kmomof4, and this amazing, gorgeous cover art has been brought to your face by @courtorderedcake! Hope you like it! Thanks for reading :)

**TRIGGER WARNING:** Description of gun violence and mention of a dead body. 

If Emma had thought things were going to be easier once she found the shirt, she would have been wrong. It was a good thing she was just cynical enough not to entertain those kinds of thoughts. Instead of ramping things up, as she'd hoped, she hadn't had a solid encounter since she'd made the purchase. Sure, the cloying scent of jasmine charged the air on a regular basis, but there were no more whispers, no more strange writing that she didn't register, no more dreams of strange tall men. Life went back to normal. Plain, old, boring normal. Things had been relatively quiet for the last couple of days. Almost _too_ quiet.   
  
She really should have seen it coming.   
  
"Em!" Graham's voice was accompanied by a single loud rap on the clouded glass of the door to their shared office. Emma jumped at the sudden noise, causing the cocoa in her cup to leap up as well, right over the rim and all over her cream colored tank.   
  
"Shit! Fuck! Shit!" she yelled and stood, holding the hot liquid coated shirt away from her torso with her thumb and forefinger while trying to move the papers on her desk out of the path of the spray. Graham's eyes widened in alarm and he hastened to help her clear her desk, pressing the napkins from the to-go bag on the chair next to her into the wet spots. When he moved to apply the napkins to the wet spots on her clothes (AKA her _boobs_ ), Emma practically growled at him and narrowed her eyes. He backed off as if he'd angered a volatile rattlesnake. He reached up to scratch the scruff on the edge of his jaw. Emma shuffled around in her bag for more napkins.   
  
"I suppose this would be a bad time to tell you that Robin Locksley is here about his wife's case," Graham said quietly. Emma's head snapped up.   
  
" _Thanks_ , Graham," Emma hissed, still feeling quite a bit like a rattlesnake and doing her best not to unleash her venom at her partner. Graham wisely nodded and slipped from the room. Emma yanked her purse up onto her desk, looking for _anything_ to clean herself with inside of its depths, and her hand closed around something soft. She grasped onto it and pulled it free. It was the shirt she bought the other day. She'd taken to carrying it with her in case the woman wanted to use it as a conduit, but she'd yet to wear it.   
  
"Gonna have to work," she grumbled and pulled the black and pink flowered blouse over her ruined tank, buttoning it as she left the room. She didn't even notice the sweet floral perfume that filled the air as she stalked towards the meeting room where Mr. Locksley sat.   
  
Robin Locksley was a tall, broad shouldered British man. His sandy brown hair flopped boyishly over his forehead but the thin line of his lips and the wrinkles at the corners of his bloodshot eyes made him look much older than he was. His wife, Marian, had been missing for just over two months and the active search had long since ceased. Nevertheless, Robin came in faithfully every other Thursday to see if there had been any news on his wife's whereabouts. As Emma stepped in the room, Robin offered her a smile and she returned it, but there was no light behind his pale blue eyes. Emma hurt for him. She knew the longer his wife was gone, the less chance there was that she would be found alive. He knew it, too. They'd even discussed it briefly on his last visit.   
  
"Detective Nolan," he greeted.   
  
"Mr. Locksley-" she returned.   
  
"Robin," he reminded her and she nodded with a tight smile.   
  
"If you're Robin, then I'm Emma," she insisted and he smiled again in acceptance. "I'm afraid there hasn't been much new information. We've looked into the Gold organization, but nothing is coming out of there. But rest assured that we are doing everything we can to find Marian. I promise you."   
  
Robin nodded sullenly.   
  
"I know you are, lass. I didn't expect much of an update. But I thought..." he trailed off, reaching into the messenger bag on the floor next to the chair he sat in. He pulled out a hairbrush and set it gingerly on the table in front of him. Emma swallowed thickly.   
  
Robin Locksley had a history. He was once a thief working for the Gold criminal enterprise, and he'd been a very good thief. The police had never been able to catch him until he had met Marian and decided that he wanted out of that life. In exchange for his testimony that brought down several big players in Gold's syndicate, including Peter Malcolm and Felix Perdu, who ran large scale shipments of black market items, Robin and Marian, along with their young son Roland had been entered into witness protection. As these things sometimes turn out, Malcolm and Perdu had been released and their charges were not sustained due to the officers involved being unable to testify. Emma knew it was a payoff. Robin knew it was a payoff. Everyone knew it was, but that was of little consolation to Robin when less than a month later his wife went missing. And now, the hairbrush spoke volumes in the silent room.   
  
"I saw a report on the news that a body was pulled out of the sound the other day," he began quietly. "I know it wasn't Marian, but I was thinking if it _had_ been... you wouldn't have any way to know... so I brought you some of her hair..." It seemed every word that Robin spoke was slicing into him like a dull knife. Emma's heart clenched. She reached out slowly but surely and grasped the handle of the brush with one hand.   
  
The encounter was instantaneous.   
  
_A woman with long brown hair flowing over her shoulders ran down a dimly lit corridor. There was a light at the end framing what looked to be like a door. The woman reached it and wrenched it open. Freedom was in her grasp. And then the sound of two silenced gunshots filled the air. As the woman fell to the ground, she twisted back to see the source of the shots that had pierced her torso. Marian. The woman was Marian Locksley. She lay there, bleeding out onto the concrete floor, half in and half out of the building she'd been trying desperately to escape. The sharp, rhythmic clicking of metal on concrete accompanied footfalls that steadily approached Marian. An older man came into view, gold tooth glinting even in the low light as he pulled his upper lip back in a snarl, one hand leaning on an ornate black and gold cane, the other tucked behind him. He raised his left hand, revealing the gun in it, leveled it at the fallen woman's head and fired one last time. Emma recognized him immediately as Mr. Weaver Gold._   
  
_The sharp scent of jasmine invaded her senses, flickering the vision in her head before fading away._   
  
_The scene changed to a field. Wildflowers grew everywhere and several trees formed a grove at the sides of it. It looked to be a clearing of some sort, but there was nothing like that in Boston. Two men that Emma didn't recognize lingered nearby, an old solid white work van parked near them. They were shovelling dirt out of the ground at a steady pace. When the satisfactory depth had been reached, the men pulled open the rear doors to the van and hoisted out a blue tarp wrapped_ **_something_ ** _that could only have been Marian. The men dropped her corpse unceremoniously into the dirt plot and began to cover her body. When they were satisfied, they got back into the van and drove down the highway. Passing a sign that read "Boston, 20 miles", Emma knew exactly where they had buried her._   
  
_Before she could even react, jasmine flooded her sense again and a voice she hadn't heard in days whispered to her once more._   
  
_Gold. Danger._ **_SAVE HIM_ ** .   
  
"Emma?" Graham's voice was threaded with concern. She opened her mouth to confirm she was okay but just as she did, the same sharp pain from before invaded her head and caused her to drop the hairbrush to the table with a clatter. She used her now freed hand to brace herself against the table as she pressed the heel of the other against her temple as visions of the letters that had haunted her for a week now swam through her head once more. Through the alphabetic haze, something else came clear.   
  
An image.   
  
She vaguely heard Graham call out to her again, his voice now coupled with Robin's, but she couldn't respond.   
  
A man stood at the edge of a dock. He was tall, but not terribly tall, not like the man from her dream. His hair was the color of fresh brewed coffee, almost black but not quite, and a dusting of umber and auburn scruff adorned his jaw. His dark eyebrows were drawn together in concentration, the object of his focus somewhere out of Emma's purview. His eyes were steady, unblinking blue orbs the likes of which Emma had never seen. His lashes were thick and black, framing the cerulean depths and adding to their vibrancy. Emma had never seen a more beautiful color blue in her life…

  
_This was Killian Jones._   
  
"Emma!" Graham shook her shoulder roughly. "If you don't answer me in five seconds, I'm calling medical!" His voice sounded shrill and panicked and she grunted in response.   
  
"Migraine," she managed to mutter. "'Scuse me." She slipped away from the table, wobbling only slightly as she pushed off of it, and stalked out of the meeting room and back towards her office. She sent her captain an email to use her sick hours and promptly left the building.   
  
On her way home, Emma made a detour. She couldn't let Marian lay in that pitiful excuse for a resting place a moment longer than necessary. She went to a part of town where she was sure no one knew her, found a payphone away from any building with a camera (which was no easy feat considering how rare payphones were in general these days), and called in an anonymous tip with the location of Marian's body and a description of the van and two men she had seen. She wished she could have disclosed the murder itself, but it was only a matter of time before the call was traced and her anonymity was lost. Besides, she had no evidence to support her vision and she couldn't exactly tell anyone that the victim gave her this information. She would find another way to get Marian justice, but getting her a proper burial and her family some closure was a good start.   
  
That night, the crisp lines of Killian Jones's face plagued her. Though she hadn't touched a pencil to drawing paper in years, she'd always had a particular knack for it, especially portraits. Ruby often joked with her that she could make a second income as a police sketch artist since she was already with the force. But the truth was, Emma could only seem to draw the dead with accuracy, so she didn't do it much. Her encounters left her shaken enough as it was without permanent reminders of their faces. But this was different. It was as if her hands itched with the need to draw him, despite the fact that she assumed he was very much alive.   
  
Nevertheless, she retrieved her sketchbook from its place in her closet where it had lay untouched for many months. As she put the graphite to the thick paper, she let her body take over, the image of Killian's handsome features taking shape over the page.   
  
Before she could let the image rest, Emma reached into her tackle box of shabby art supplies and fished out a rich royal blue pencil. As she circled the irises on the page into colorful life, Emma couldn't help the feeling that Killian Jones was going to change her forever.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're already on chapter four! Things with the case are really starting to heat up here, and some big background on Killian comes to light. Also, the confirmation on the identity of the woman Emma has been hearing all this time! I'm sure you guys have already guessed who she is, but her identity is confirmed here. Thanks so so much as always for reading and a HUGE thank you to the fantastic @kmomof4 for being such an amazing part of this process as my beta and thanks to @courtorderedcake for the brilliant artwork she's created for this piece. Enjoy chapter 4!

Emma hated days like this. She knew from the multiple messages she'd gotten from Graham and Captain Mills that the tip had been heeded and the captain had sent out a search party to recover Marian's body last night. Which means Robin would be there this morning and very much grieving. Her heart hurt for him.    
  
Unfortunately, Marian's death fit a laundry list of other victims in the area. She was a young woman, missing for several months, and connected to Weaver Gold. Of course, she was the only one that knew for sure that  Weaver Gold was the actual killer, but without actual physical evidence, she couldn't make that accusation. Thankfully, Robin's former association with him was enough to warrant further investigation.   
  
Emma arrived at the office a little earlier than usual, sipping on her iced coffee (no repeats of yesterday, thank you very much), and reviewing her case files before Graham got there. She flipped through a number of pages, looking at names and faces of so many missing girls she hoped she wouldn't find like  Marian. Ashley Boyd. Ivy Belfrey. Ariel Havfrue. Shirin Amira. Aurora Prince. Young women that had all gone missing without a trace within the last six months, from all walks of life with seemingly no connection to one another, except one: Mr. Gold. In one way or another, usually through a deal they had made to get out of a bad spot in their lives, all of them had a connection to Gold. And now that a body had turned up, it was time to dig deeper. She turned back to the bulletin board set up with information on Gold and his enterprise and looked at the red yarn webbing connecting pieces of these women's lives to him and it made her blood boil. She was going to be the one to take him down. She had to be.   
  
"Hey, Em." Graham's sheepish voice came from the doorway behind her as her partner made his way into their shared office. "You're here early."   
  
Emma nodded and hummed an affirmative sound before turning back to study her board. Graham cleared his throat and she turned back to him to see him watching her intently.   
  
"Something you needed, Humbert?" she asked, gathering her files on the desk.    
  
"Ah, no. Well, yes. Kind of," he rambled and Emma raised an eyebrow. He sighed deeply before continuing. "What I mean to say is I feel bad about yesterday. I can't help but feel like maybe your migraine was partially caused by what happened with me startling you and the spill, and of course I feel terrible about that as well. Anyways, I wanted to see about making it up to you by maybe taking you to dinner?"   
  
It was Emma's turn to sigh. Graham looked like such a hopeful little puppy every time he asked her out that, at first, she hated to say no, but she just wasn't in the same place as Graham was. That was at first. Now, she still wasn't in the same place he was and rejection came automatically to her.   
  
"Sorry, Graham. Don't mix business with pleasure. Is Mills in yet?" She tried to change the subject around Graham's crestfallen change in expression. He nodded and began shuffling through papers on his own desk.   
  
"Uh, yeah. I dunno if she even went home last night after they pulled the body. They're razing the whole field to see if there's anymore case files we can close." Graham seemed to have found everything he needed and nodded at his desk, not meeting Emma's eyes. "I'll, uh, see you out there."   
  
Emma squeezed her eyes shut tightly as he left the office. When she was sure he was gone, she turned and picked up her case files and followed him out into the bullpen for the meeting.    
  
Regina Mills was a no-nonsense, severe woman. She was rather imposing for her average stature, her raven hair always in its sleek bob, immaculate pantsuits for every occasion, big brown eyes that looked into the depths of your soul. Emma's two years under her as her captain were tumultuous, to say the least. Over time, they had learned to get along and had even become friends of a sort. Well, as close to being Emma's friend as you could get. But they understood each other, and that was more than Emma had with most people. Unbidden, Killian's face popped into her mind. Maybe he was someone who could understand, too. Emma shook his image from her head as fast as it entered, a flush crawling up her neck at how much she actually thought about someone she'd never even met before.   
  
Things had actually been quieter on the encounters front. Instead of relief, Emma felt unsettled. She was always waiting for the other shoe to drop and she was very careful to avoid touching anything that might trigger her. Especially that damn shirt. But along with all of that, there was an underlying fear that she may be running out of time on multiple counts. If this Killian Jones needed rescue, she knew time was of the essence. Right now, though, she had a job to do.   
  
She gathered her case files and walked into the bullpen, taking a seat on the edge of an open desk next to where Graham sat. A few other people had already gathered themselves.  Jefferson, their tech analyst was typing away at his laptop, completely engrossed in his task. Two junior detectives, August Booth and Mulan Fa, stood chatting in front of the water cooler. The door to the central office opened and Captain Mills came striding out.    
  
"Alright, people. As you all know, there was a huge break in the case yesterday with the unfortunate recovery of Marian Locksley's body. We still have no leads on the tip that came in leading to the location of her remains, but Jefferson is looking into that," she addressed the group and Jefferson gave a mock two fingered salute, eyes still glued to his screen. Emma felt butterflies rise up in her stomach, but she'd been careful. There's no reason she'd be found out. "Now, we have a solid lead on a connection to Weaver Gold in regards to these disappearances, but he's sealing up leaks quickly since the body was discovered. Information out of his operation is at an essential standstill. So, we'll have to get it from the source. Nolan, Humbert!" Emma's head snapped up at her name and Graham stood up straighter beside her.   
  
"You have three days to get your affairs in order. Then you're undercover."   
  
Emma's heart jumped into her throat as Regina continued to speak and passed them each a manilla folder with information on the identities created for them. She had never been undercover before in the four years since she'd been promoted to detective.    
  
"Of course you'll want to use all in house resources before you go, you'll only have Jefferson as your contact once you are in the field," Regina continued and Emma looked up to her.   
  
"Did Robin come in already?" she asked and Regina cocked an eyebrow.    
  
"He's in my office. He's provided us with some invaluable intel towards your undercover assignment already," she replied.   
  
"Is he... well, I mean I know he's not... but is he..." Emma struggled to find words to ask about the wellbeing of the man who had lost his wife. There was a reason Graham did most of the talking to the vics.   
  
Regina gave a slow, cool nod.   
  
"He's as well as can be expected," she said thoughtfully. It was rare to see an introspective Regina. She cared about a lot of things, but was never really one to wear her heart on her sleeve. Emma nodded, unsure of how to read Regina.   
  
"Well, it looks like the going just got tough, so I better get going." She stood and the two nodded at each other before Emma walked to her office.   
  
Inside, Graham was poring over the contents of the manila file on his desk with his undercover instructions. She sat opposite of him, eyeing him carefully. He sighed heavily.   
  
"This is insane," he said, flipping his file closed sharply as Emma opened hers. She shrugged.   
  
"We know the case the best. We've been working on it for months now and no one knows Gold better than the two of us. Makes sense." She continued to flip though the file outlining her role as a petty thief and Graham's as a fence of sorts. She scowled down at the pages in her hands.   
  
"I know. You're right. I just can't help but feel like something bigger is going on. And I know that should make me more ready to go, but it just makes me nervous," he admitted. Emma looked up to him and studied the apprehension in his gaze.   
  
"I know, Graham. It's a tough spot. But we're professionals and we can do this. At least we can count on one another." She offered him a warm smile which he returned with a stiff one of his own.   
  
"Yeah. You're right. It must be first time undercover nerves. I'm gonna go grab a coffee and talk to Jefferson. You want anything?" he asked and Emma shook her head.   
  
"No, I'm good. Gonna look through some things and probably head out for the day. Get everything ready to go." She shuffled the papers back into place and closed the folder.   
  
"I'll leave you to it, then. See you Friday." He smiled gently at her again and she nodded her response, turning her attention to her computer as he left the space.   
  
Emma rolled her neck, trying to relieve some tension. She could only hope this went smoothly and quickly. With Gold's status and notoriety, it was unlikely though. Her whole life was likely to be put on the back burner for quite some time. Ruby was going to be pissed. Protective pissed, but still pissed. And then there was the issue with Killian Jones. She felt a pang in her chest at the idea of leaving him to suffer through whatever she was supposed to be "saving" him from. She rolled the mouse on the screen as an idea came to her. She opened up a new search screen and began to type.   
  
_ Killian Jones _ .   
  
More than one result popped up in the records database, British naval records, immigration records, naturalization paperwork, guardianship records for one Liam Jones, but the blue eyes staring out from the mugshot on her screen she instantly recognized. So he had a past. She clicked on his arrest record and pulled up his history. Her jaw dropped almost comically.   
  
Robbery.   
Assault.   
Burglary.   
Breaking and entering.   
Money laundering.   
Evading arrest.

Attempted murder.   
  
The litany of charges he had been arrested for was impressive, to say the least. Curiously enough, however, all charges were subsequently dropped after his arrest due to there not being enough evidence to hold him, except the assault. The assault, an apparently isolated incident against a man named Herman Ahab, he served two years behind bars for. But the scowling man with the piercing eyes and hard set to his jaw seemed absolutely capable of each and every allegation. A far cry to the soft image of a lost and hurting soul gazing wistfully over the sea that she had experienced before. Emma was more conflicted than ever. Was Killian Jones in danger? Or was he the danger himself? Before she could decide for herself the now familiar, but still panic inducing, scent of jasmine crept up on her causing her flesh to erupt in goose pimples.   
  
_ Good man. _   
  
The soft voice murmured. Emma scoffed.    
  
"Clearly," she said, feeling insane for acknowledging the encounter out loud. A surge of floral perfume surrounded her and the words were repeated, a little more forcefully.   
  
**_Good man_ ** .   
  
"If you say so. I don't know why I keep listening to you. I don't even know who the hell you are," she grumbled petulantly.   
  
_ Milah _ .    
  
The voice whispered an answer to the statement she made almost immediately.   
  
"Milah, huh. You got a last name, Milah?" Emma asked, bringing up a new search screen to do a little more digging. As quickly as the encounter had come on, the scent of jasmine began to fade and Emma had the distinct feeling she was alone again.    
  
She sighed heavily and clicked back on the page with Killian Jones’ information. The remaining charges on his rap sheet all appeared to be linked to a single arrest, so she pulled up the report and her heart almost slammed to a stop in her chest. 

Killian Jones had been accused of trying to kill Weaver Gold.    


Emma was never much of a believer in fate, but it seemed like there was something bigger at work here.  Call it grand design, destiny, or whatever, there was much to get ready for.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter five! Here we go. This is the calm before the storm here and there's a lot of Emma and Ruby interaction. I'm sorry I'm advance if it feels a little filler-y but the next couple chapters are the start of the undercover op! Huge shoutout to @kmomof4 who is amazing and wonderful and who graciously betas this for me even though I'm a complete nut and she's the busiest woman in the fandom lol and also please give some huge love to @courtorderedcake who made the beautiful artwork that pairs with this fic that makes me grin like an idiot every time I see it. On with the show!

_She was on a beach._   
  
_No that wasn't right. But she could hear the ocean, smell the salt. The floor beneath her feet pitched and yawed with the motion of the waves._   
  
_She was on a boat? Why was she on a boat?_   
  
_"Hello, lass."_   
  
_Emma spun around at the deep baritone that interrupted her musings and she understood._   
  
_"You again," she said with a tentative smile. He returned the sentiment with a nod and a small smirk._   
  
_"Aye. It was much easier to find you this time," he stepped a little closer to her._   
  
_"What do you mean?" Emma asked._   
  
_"_ _Milah led me to you. I didn't have a solid connection to you before. We don't have much time," he said in lieu of an actual answer. "My brother needs your help_ _."_   
  
_"Killian is your brother." It was a statement, not a question, but the man confirmed it with a nod anyhow._   
  
_"My name is Liam Jones. Killian is my little brother. Last I saw him in the physical world, I was dying in his arms aboard our ship," he supplied. Emma's heart broke even more for Killian and now Liam. No one deserved to go through that._   
  
_"Was that when he was in the navy?" she asked._   
  
_"Aye. He was my lieutenant. I was captain on the HMS Jewel of the Realm. We were unexpectedly attacked when on a surveillance mission. I, as you can see, didn't make it. Killian was discharged not long after that. I've kept tabs on him, you see," he explained, his features taut and pained. His eyes were unfocused, looking off somewhere into his memories as he spoke. "He lost Milah first. Then me. We were all he had. It broke him."_   
  
_"I'm sorry for you both. For all three of you. Milah and I have had... contact a few times," Emma replied softly. Liam's eyes sharpened on her once more and he looked at her with more urgency._   
  
_"I know you have. She sent me to you. Lass, we're running out of time. I need you to know that Killian is a good man. He is. He's lost right now, but he is good. You can help. You can save him from himself," he insisted fiercely, reaching out to grasp her elbow._   
  
_"I believe you, Liam," she whispered. He gave her a tight smile, expression riddled with worry._   
  
" _I'll try to return soon but I don't_ -"   
  
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP   
  
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP   
  
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP   
  
Emma slammed her hand down on the alarm with a groan. She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she tried to cling to the pieces of the encounter she had just had. Just as with dreams, the details began to fade quickly if she didn't write then down, so she retrieved her journal from the bedside table and wrote down all she could remember.   
  
" _You can save him from himself_ ."   
  
She hoped it was true. For someone she had never met before, Killian Jones had imprinted on her life in a way she hadn't expected. She never expected to _care_ this much. She hoisted herself up with a groan and made her way into the kitchen where her coffee was already brewing. She poured herself a cup and inhaled the aroma, making her lips quirk up in a smile. It was about to be a hell of a day.   
  
She made a mental list of all the things she needed to take care of before she went under. Text Ruby and have her come by once a week to clean and water her one houseplant. Set all of her bills to autopay. Make sure Ruby is an authorized user on all of her accounts. Pack. The packet she received from Regina was detailed to the finest, including what she would be allowed to bring with her. Clothing was being supplied to maintain the image they'd created. Any daily medications or preferential entertainment items had to be cleared with Regina as soon as possible.   
  
Shooting off a text to Ruby asking her to come over that afternoon, she set about the rest of her list. She changed into a baby pink tank with three little buttons at the top and a pair of comfy jeans and socks and started her phone calls.   
  
After her _seventh_ go around in an automated system that simply did not understand her voice commands, Emma finally hung up the phone, billing necessities completed. Her temples throbbed as she made her way around her bed. The only personal items she needed to take were her journal and her sketchbook and art supplies. She gathered the items and tossed them into a pile on the bed, diving back into her closet in search of her messenger bag to gather it all in. A friendly rhythmic knock sounded at the door. Ruby.   
  
Emma smiled and made her way to the door to answer it just as it swung open.   
  
"Honey! I'm ho-ome!" Ruby singsonged with a grin, hanging on the door as it swung open under her slight weight.   
  
"Why do you even bother knocking if you're just going to use the key?" Emma teased and Ruby shrugged.   
  
"I like to think you'll never know what I'll do. I always have the element of surprise." She flounced over to the counter. "So are we eating? I could go for some pizza right about now."   
  
"Yeah, yeah, it's on its way." Emma pushed the confirmation button on the app for their local pizza place and waved it aloft to show Ruby. Ruby was quick to reply.   
  
"Did you get the-"   
  
"Carnivore special, extra cheese," Emma responded.   
  
"And the-"   
  
"Cinnamon twisty sticks. Honestly, Rubes, you act like we've never eaten pizza together.” She chuckled.   
  
"Ex- _cuse_ me then," Ruby said, sticking out her tongue and flopping into a chair. Everything Ruby did was dramatic, which is one of the reasons Emma was so close to her.   
  
When her parents died and Emma closed herself off to the world, Ruby was one of the only people who could bring her out of her shell. She was bright and bubbly where Emma was dim and sullen. Her smile was infectious, her exuberance even more so, and Emma loved her like she was her own sister. She gave her advice, became her voice of reason, her crying shoulder, her very best friend. And she was going to be very unhappy about being kept in the dark.   
  
"So, what's new, Em?" Ruby asked, twirling on her stool slightly.   
  
"Uh, not much." Emma shuffled her feet and Ruby arched an eyebrow.   
  
"Emma Nolan, you are the worst liar I have ever seen." Ruby laughed out loud. Emma sighed and Ruby sobered. "It's something big." It was a statement, not a question, but Emma nodded anyways.   
  
"I'm going undercover. I'm not sure how long. Until we get the guy. And before you ask, I really can't tell you anything more." Emma looked at the kitchen counter as she spoke. It felt like hours went by as the two women stood in silence.   
  
"When?" Ruby broke the silence with a single strangled sounding word. Emma looked up at Ruby's face finally and saw the fear written all over her features.   
  
"Uh, day after tomorrow. I just found out yesterday. Getting everything ready today, so I wanted to tell you and see if you'd keep any eye on the place for me while I'm gone. All my bills are paid but I need someone to pay my rent and, y'know, dust and stuff." Emma wanted to slap herself for how pathetic she sounded but Ruby didn't seem bothered by it in the least as she lurched forward and seized Emma in a hug.   
  
"I don't like this. Not one bit," she said through clenched teeth.   
  
"I know," Emma laughed, expecting that response. "But I gotta go."   
  
"You gotta go, but I don't gotta like it," she replied, squeezing Emma tighter.   
  
"You're crushing me just a little," Emma said, fake gasping when Ruby released her.   
  
"Well, maybe that's all part of my master plan to keep you here, safe." Ruby pulled away with a smirk.   
  
"I _want_ to do this, Rubes. We have a real shot at helping a lot of people, and putting a really bad guy away forever," Emma reasoned, moving around Ruby to grab a couple of wine glasses and a bottle of merlot she'd put in there for a rainy day. Ruby pouted, even as Emma poured two healthy servings of the red and placed one in front of her.   
  
"I know, but we're family, and I was responsible for you for quite a long time, and I can't help but feel a little bit like I'm sending my baby off to war." She swirled the liquid around in her glass before taking a drink. Emma snorted.   
  
"Ruby, you're only five years older than me," Emma reminded her and took a drink from her own glass. Ruby looked like she was going to say something else, but was cut off by a sharp knock at the door. "That'll be the grub. Will you grab my wallet off my night stand while I answer that?"   
  
"Sure thing," Ruby said, hopping off her stool and making her way to Emma's bedroom. Emma walked to the front door as another knock rang out.   
  
"I'm coming, I'm coming," she muttered before throwing open the door to greet the pizza guy.   
  
"Large carnivore and cinnamon twists?" The kid, who couldn't have been more than 20 asked, looking at the receipt.   
  
"Yep."   
  
"That'll be $17.32," he said, loading the boxes into her arms.   
  
"Sure thing.” She moved to set them on the small table behind her and almost ran into Ruby as she returned.   
  
"Here ya go." She practically threw the wallet at Emma before walking briskly back out of the living room. She watched her leave curiously and pulled a $20 from her purse, handing it to the delivery guy and sending him on his way. She picked up the boxes of food from the small side table and made her way back to the kitchen, where Ruby was now sitting at the counter, Emma's sketchbook in hand. She must have snagged it off the bed when she went to retrieve Emma's wallet. Emma flushed scarlet, her face and skin all the way down to her collarbones heating up. Ruby flipped the page she was on around so it faced Emma.   
  
There her perfectly imperfect sketch of one Killian Jones stared back at her from the page, blue eyes staring into her like they were alive. She inhaled sharply, involuntarily.   
  
"Who's this?" Ruby asked, eyes studying Emma. Emma felt butterflies rise up in her chest and she suddenly felt lost for words. She hated lying to Ruby but asking her to believe the truth made her feel panicked.   
  
"Uh, no one? I saw him in a dream, felt like drawing him," Emma replied with what she hoped was a nonchalant tone. She maneuvered the pizza boxes around behind Ruby and pulled a couple of plates from the cabinet, serving herself and Ruby a slice apiece. One glance at Ruby's face and she knew she didn't believe her.   
  
"Mmhmm," Ruby replied, ignoring the plate as it was set in front of her. "Is he the reason you're going undercover?" Emma almost choked on her slice of pizza.   
  
"What?!" Emma asked, taken aback as she gulped down air.   
  
"Is he one of your missing... people?" Ruby turned the book back to facing her and studied the drawing a little further. Emma reached out and pulled the book from Ruby's hands, snapping it shut. "Hey!"   
  
"No. He's not. To both of those questions." Emma stashed the book underneath the counter, ignoring Ruby's protest. "I just... remembered his face. Felt like I had to put it to paper." She shrugged and picked at her pizza, trying to be as honest as possible without the whole " _I see dead people_ " drama.   
  
"Hmm..." Ruby said, narrowing her eyes at Emma for a moment, and Emma was afraid she might press the issue further. But Ruby's face lightened and she picked up her pizza and took a large bite. "Well, whoever he is, he's hot." Emma relaxed and plastered on a smile she hoped didn't read as too relieved.   
  
"I can't get him out of my head," Emma said softly, the closest words to the truth she could offer.   
  
Emma was so lost in her own thoughts, she didn't even notice Ruby looking down at her phone to the picture she took of Emma's sketch. There was more to this mystery man than Emma was telling and Ruby just knew it.   
  
Emma just wished she could tell someone the truth.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Monday already! That means it's time for Chapter 6! BIG stuff happens this chapter. It's the start of the undercover operation and some stuff goes down. On a partially related note, I've just written a very special entrance, and while we won't see him this chapter 'per se', he will be coming verrrrrrrrrry soon ;) ENORMOUS love for my fantastic beta @kmomof4 (I legit don't know what I would do without her) and to @courtorderedcake for the gorgeous banner she created (have y'all looked at the attention to detail on this thing?! SHE'S AMAZING!). I hope you guys like it! Thank you for reading!

"Okay, so these glasses have a mini camera in them and a mic, so keep them on or near you at all times, got it?" Jefferson adjusted the thick, black framed glasses on Emma's face as he spoke, glancing back and forth between her and the computer monitor to make sure the feed was coming in clear. "Graham, your watch has the same tech in it, and you should be set as well. We are going to have a van in your vicinity as much as possible without drawing attention and of course you have each other in the field. I'll do my best as your handler to keep you updated on any pertinent information. Okay?"   
  
Emma nodded, as did Graham beside her. Jefferson didn't even acknowledge the nods, as if he expected them. He just wheeled around in his chair and typed a few things into his laptop, making adjustments to assorted programs on his screen.   
  
"Now, remember. Once you step out those doors, you are Emma Swan and Graham McIntyre. Your actual identities cease to exist and you're playing the parts assigned to you. I will be in your ears with these," he held up two tiny mostly clear ear inserts before pressing them into their palms, "giving you info, refreshing your memory on your file details, should it come up, and giving you general advice from the team. Any orders from the captain most likely are going to come through me as well. Think of me as your link to the real world. Any questions?" Jefferson rolled back in his chair and put his hands behind his head.   
  
"I think we're good," Emma said, gathering the bag given to her filled with clothing and essentials. Graham hummed an agreement. The motel room they sat in was to be hers until the case was wrapped and Graham had one across the lot from her as well. She tapped her foot nervously, ready to get this show on the road, but Graham looked about ready to throw up. He was pale and cool sweat beaded at his hairline, making his coppery curls stick to his forehead. She placed what she hoped was a soothing hand on his shoulder. He gave her a grateful smile.   
  
"Well, Nolan, Humbert, I'll catch you on the flip side I guess. Talk soon.” He gave a cheeky wink and left with his laptop.   
  
As the door closed behind Jefferson, Graham let out a shaky sigh and ran one of his large hands through his hair. Emma still had her hand on his shoulder, and she moved it to his back, rubbing it in soothing circles.   
  
"We're going to be okay, Graham. You're one of the best detectives I've met and it won't be long until we are back home." Emma hoped she sounded as reassuring as she intended.   
  
"I know, Em. I just can't help but feel this sense of impending doom. We're messing with a bad guy here," he said and stood, wiping a hand down his face.   
  
"Okay. Here's what we need to do.” Emma stood and brushed the wrinkles out of her clothes. "You're gonna go find us some grub, I'm gonna take a shower and when I come out, we're going to eat and talk about anything else besides work, and then you're gonna go to your room, take a long, hot shower and we're both gonna get a good night's rest. Sound good?" She placed her hands on her hips. Graham gave her a meek smile, watching her from the corner of his eye.   
  
"Alright, Emma. That sounds perfect." He moved to the door to pick up his jacket, then paused as he opened the door, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Can I count this-"   
  
" _ Not _ a date, Graham," she cut him off, digging through her bag for clean clothes, not even lifting her head.   
  
"Alright, alright, I'll get the food for our  _ not-date _ then." He laughed and slung his jacket over his shoulder, letting the door swing shut behind him.    
  
Emma shook her head with a smile. She liked Graham. He was a good partner, a good cop. She just wasn't interested in relationships. More accurately, she wasn't interested in having her heart broken again. Everyone who ever got close to her was dead. Everyone except Ruby. Ruby often found herself the exception to most every rule, though. She lay her clothes on the bathroom counter and began to strip down, turning on the water and testing it before immersing herself in the warm stream, heart aching with those she'd lost.   
  
She rarely indulged these moments, reopening scars and delving into her own past. She hated herself for it every time. She hated herself even more for thinking it might not have been so bad that everyone died if they came to see her every now and again. She could scarcely go the month before this, now hardly a day, without some kind of encounter. It was hardly ever anyone she knew. It got lonely. Which was, ironically, why she was better off alone. She couldn't lose anyone else.   
  
Emma stuffed her emotions to the back of her heart (where they belonged, in her opinion) and finished her shower. She got out, toweled herself dry, and dressed quickly, wrapping her damp, golden hair into a bun. When she made her way into the main room, Graham was still gone.   
  
"Sheesh, how long does it take to get food?" she muttered and grabbed a book from her bag. It was one of those trashy romance novels that were her guilty pleasure. And suddenly, a devious thought ran through her head. She ran back into the bathroom and grabbed the glasses she'd left there and slipped them on. Walking casually back to the bed, she grabbed her book off the dresser where she'd discarded it in her haste, then settled herself against the headboard of the bed. Emma looked at the pirate aboard his ship, a feisty blonde princess in his embrace, adorning the cover in their passionate pose and almost giggled. Jefferson was about to get an eye full of literature he probably never hoped to read.   
  
Emma immersed herself in a world apart from her own, where swashbuckling rescues and over the top declarations of love existed and before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.   
  
In her dreams, she was aboard a pirate ship. The red dress she was wrapped in felt heavy and constricting, but she moved about elegantly. She felt like a princess.   
  
" _ This is quite the fantasy, love _ ." The deep, familiar voice caused Emma to turn.   
  
" _ Liam _ ," she said, surprised and slightly embarrassed to be talking to him in the middle of a romance novel inspired dreamscape. " _ Well, this is awkward _ ." Liam chuckled.   
  
" _ I'm not here to judge you, lass. As always, our time is fleeting _ ." He stepped towards her, sincerity and urgency in his eyes.   
  
" _ Alright, Liam, then why are you here _ ?" she asked.    
  
" _ I'm here to make you see Killian. He needs someone. You can help. Here, look _ ," he said, turning and gesturing with his hand. The air before them shimmered and changed, revealing the image of a teenage Liam and a small boy that Emma immediately recognized by his bright blue eyes and mop of dark hair as Killian.   
  
" _ Killian was nine here. I was seventeen _ ," Liam spoke and Emma nodded, taking in the scene.    
  
Killian held tight to Liam's hand, dragging him along behind him as they chased a paper sailboat downstream in a creek of sorts that ran through a lovely little park. Killian's eyes were bright and full of life, but Liam's, while happy in the moment with his brother, reflected a weight that he should have been too young to bear. Emma could tell he'd taken on much responsibility at a young age. The boat caught itself on some rocks near the water's edge, and Killian retrieved it triumphantly. He turned back to his brother with a wide grin, revealing a couple missing teeth.   
  
" _ That's a new record, Li! Best run yet _ !" the boy shouted and Liam chuckled in response.    
  
" _ Aye, it was, little brother _ ," he replied, ruffling Killian's hair. Killian scowled and tried to smooth his hair back down but it wouldn't cooperate.    
  
" _ I'm not so little anymore, Liam _ ," he said, offended. " _ I'm just your younger brother now _ ." Killian puffed himself up as he spoke and teenage Liam fought back another laugh.   
  
" _ Alright, younger brother, what next _ ?" Liam asked and Killian grinned.    
  
" _ We beat the record, of course! The Jolly Roger is the fastest ship in all the realms _ !" Killian exclaimed, running back towards where they'd come from. Liam called his name as he ran off, but the boy was gone like a shot. The teen broke out into a jog after him. By the time he caught up, he found Killian stopped in the middle of the path, staring at something.    
  
A young boy with red hair sat under a tree, his chin resting on his arms that were folded across his knees. One of his knees was visible and bleeding through a rip in his jeans. Angry tears ran down his face and he wiped them away on his sleeve every now and then. Both the spirit Liam and the memory Liam watched on alongside Emma as Killian determinedly marched over to the boy.    
  
" _ You alright, mate _ ?" Killian called out as he approached. The other boy scrambled to his feet, hurriedly wiping away the remainder of his tears and putting on a scowl.   
  
" _ I'm fine _ ." The boys regarded each other carefully. Killian reached out a hand in front of him to shake.   
  
" _ I'm Killian Jones. What's your name _ ?" he said. The red haired kid looked down at the hand for a moment and then took it, shaking lightly.   
  
" _ Miles. Miles Potter _ ," he answered and Killian grinned.   
  
" _ How come you're by yourself _ ?" he asked as the two broke apart. Miles' eyebrows furrowed.    
  
" _ Kevin Yardley pushed me down and took my kite _ ," he grumbled, kicking the sticks on the ground by his feet. Killian looked upset at that.   
  
" _ Well, Kevin Yardley is a right wanker, then _ ," Killian declared and Miles' mouth popped open in an 'O' at Killian's language.   
  
" _ Killian _ !" Liam admonished and his brother looked back at him sheepishly.   
  
" _ Sorry, Li _ ," he offered and Liam gave him a stiff nod after a moment. Killian turned back to his new friend. " _ That's my brother, Liam. We're pirates today! Do you want to come sail my boat with me _ ?" He held up his little paper ship and Miles lit up like a Christmas tree.   
  
" _ Really? Yeah _ !" he agreed and the two boys made their way back to the starting point Killian had chosen.   
  
" _ Killian gave him his boat when it was time for us to go, _ " the elder Liam said as the image of his memory faded. Emma gave him a soft smile. " _ He's always been the first to help others in need. His whole life. It's just in his nature _ ."   
  
" _ Seems like he had a pretty good influence _ ," Emma pointed out and a humble smile crept onto Liam's face.    
  
" _ I tried to be. He's just gotten so lost. You're my only chance to help him. I can see you, even when you can't see me. You're a good person. You can help him, _ " he insisted.    
  
Emma was a little unnerved that this spirit had been keeping tabs on her and wondered briefly what all he may have seen, but before she could answer him, the bang of a door flying open with force caused her to jerk awake, her dream connection lost. She reached under her mattress immediately for the handgun she'd stored there and whipped around to point it at her intruder. Jefferson came into the room, completely disregarding the firearm and looking very perturbed. Emma popped the safety back on and stowed the weapon on the nightstand as she rose to her feet.   
  
"Jeff, what the hell?" she asked as he appeared to be doing a sweep of the room. She glanced at the clock and was surprised to see she'd been asleep for over two hours. When he came up empty, he turned to face her, face pale and serious.   
  
"Graham's been shot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry? *runs and hides*


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Chapter 7. We are getting so close to introducing Killian! You will definitely see him come in in the next two chapters, but in the meantime, were dealing with the aftermath if Graham being shot. Some more background for Emma is revealed here and some important info for one of the spirits close to Liam as well. Thanks so much to my amazing beta @kmomof4, she is AWESOME, and I appreciate all her help and input so much, and thanks to @courtorderedcake who made the amazing banner you see at the top of each chapter! Thanks so much to everyone who is liking this story and continues to read, review, and support it!

"Dammit, Regina, I can do this! This is my case!" Emma was fuming. Graham had been shot and it was her fault. She'd sent him out there. And now her captain was trying to pull her off the case as well and Emma wasn't going down without a fight. She had to make this right for Graham.   
  
"Detective Humbert is in the hospital for an indeterminate amount of time and Gold is a force to be reckoned with. In light of everything going on, I'm of a mind that Booth and Fa are more suitable replacements on this operation," Regina said, looking up at Emma over her reading glasses from the file in front of her. She shifted on the edge of the motel room bed, as if she were trying to touch the surface as little as possible. Her deep red lips were drawn in a thin, no-nonsense line that others may have trembled at, but Emma took it as a challenge.  
  
"No one else knows this case like I do. What happened with Graham, it was a convenience store robbery gone wrong. Horrible, but coincidental. My cover was never compromised, hell, neither was his! And I'll still have Jefferson backing my every move. I can do this, Regina, you know I can," she said, gesturing wildly at the dark haired tech analyst observing with his arms crossed over his chest from his place against the wall, resiliency flashing emerald in her eyes.   
  
Regina stared hard at her, as if she was trying to determine something. After a long moment, she closed the file in her lap and moved her glasses to rest on top of her head, reaching up to massage the indentations left behind on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes closed and she exhaled forcefully through her nose.  
  
"Nolan, this is about your safety as well as maintaining the integrity of this operation. It's not as simple as-"  
  
"Yes it is!" Emma half-shouted at her captain who blinked up at her in surprise. Emma felt slight contrition roll over her at her outburst and took a beat to compose herself. "Sorry, I'm just- _ugh_ \- what I meant to say was it would be much less time, effort, and budgeting to rearrange for the department to just keep me on rather than creating new files and identities and ensuring proper training for other people. We're running out of time, Regina. Every day we waste is another day further from bringing those girls home. I'm already here, just let me do my job!"  
  
The two women stared at each other in silence. Regina was clearly struggling with allowing this, but she knew in the same moment that Emma made several strong points to her favor.  
  
"Jefferson, what do you think?" Regina asked, not taking her eyes from the blonde.  
  
"Let her do it," he said with a shrug and Emma looked at him, startled but triumphant.  
  
"Really?" Regina turned to him and raised an eyebrow, the movement as calculated as her speech.  
  
"Yeah, I mean, she's right. And if anyone can handle this alone, I'd bet on Nolan." He smirked and Emma beamed.  
  
"See, Cap, have a little faith," she wheedled, knowing she was pushing it. Regina let out a heavy sigh and shook her head, her short brunette hair swinging around her jaw with the movement.  
  
"One chance, Nolan." She held up a hand as Emma's mouth dropped open to speak. "Ah! _One chance_. And if I feel at any point like it's become too much, like you can't handle it, like things are becoming jeopardized, I pull the plug. No questions asked, no warning, no second chances. Gold is too smart for this to work twice and you going in alone leaves us with a very precarious balance that we have to maintain. Capisce?" Regina stood and gathered her files, fixing Emma with a final hard look. Emma nodded immediately.  
  
"I've got this, Regina. You don't have to worry," she assured her and Regina huffed out a laugh that almost sounded like a scoff.  
  
"Well, _Miss Swan_ ," she said, using her cover identity to address her. "That remains to be seen. Don't make me regret this." Regina turned abruptly and marched through the door, letting it close with a sharp click behind her.  
  
Emma turned and trudged to the bed, flopping on it front first and burying her face into the mattress.  
  
"How you holding up, kid?" Emma felt the bed dip as Jefferson sat next to her prone form. She turned her face just enough to crack one eye open to look at him.  
  
"My partner just got shot and I'm headed into a criminal enterprise alone, how do you think I am?" she said a little more gruffly than intended. Jefferson hummed an amused but reserved sound.   
  
"Thought that last part was what you wanted.” He leaned towards her and then back to sitting straight, making the bed dip and bounce briefly.  
  
"It doesn't mean I'm not freaked out by it. Only an idiot wouldn't be wary," she replied.  
  
"Yeah. And man, it fuckin' sucks when a friend gets hurt," he continued.  
  
"Yeah," she whispered.  
  
Graham was a good guy, a sharp cop, and probably the closest thing Emma had to a friend, despite his attempts to be more. Her heart had been aching since Jefferson delivered the news. At first, they'd thought their cover was blown, but it turned out Graham had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. And it shook her more than she wanted to admit. He'd known, he'd _told her_ that he felt uneasy, like something bad was coming. She'd sent him out anyways. It all felt a little too familiar.   
  
When Emma was eighteen, she fell in love. Neal Cassidy was older, a worldly soul who had seen and done things Emma had only dreamed about. He was 21 when they met and Emma would have followed him just about anywhere. She didn't have to have plans, there were no expectations, no rules, she could just _be_ with Neal. He was a free spirit, with no real home, no real ties to anyone and he and Emma just got each other. When he died, she felt just as lost as when her parents passed.  
  
She hadn't seen it coming. They were supposed to leave together. He'd pulled out a map and she'd pointed with her eyes closed and just like that they were leaving for Tallahassee together. She'd packed, left a note for Ruby and Granny and headed to his house, but she was running late because she'd had to wait for Ruby to go to bed. When she finally showed up to meet him an hour after their scheduled time, she was greeted by a building engulfed in flames.   
  
Arson, they'd said. He tried to escape. He'd almost made it, but the ceiling fell in on him. Emma had tried to go in after him, but firefighters on site pulled her out. Ruby had tracked her down after finding her note to find her in the back of an ambulance getting an oxygen treatment. She didn't say anything, just took Emma home to grieve. Emma couldn't bring herself to go to his funeral.  
  
She saw Neal one more time. He came to her in a dream, as Liam Jones often did now. She'd dreamt of their first date, if you could call it that. They'd broken into an abandoned theme park and turned on some of the rides. They'd had their first kiss there on the swings. It was fitting he'd appear to her in such a dreamscape to say goodbye.   
  
" _I love you so much, Emma. You're gonna do great things. Don't hold onto me. I'm moving on_ ," he'd said, and she'd begged him to stay. He didn't say anything else, only smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her lips that she could still feel as her eyes fluttered open the next morning. And he never came back.  
  
It was her fault he'd died. If she had only been there on time, if she wasn't such a coward and faced Ruby and Granny and just told them her plan, Neal would still be alive. It was her fault then, and it was her fault now.   
  
"He's a tough guy. He'll pull through," Jefferson said, bringing Emma back to the present from her thoughts. Emma hummed an acknowledgement.  
  
"I hope so," she murmured. Jefferson hoisted himself from his seat with a groan, wiping his hands on his jeans.  
  
"I'm gonna head out, kid. Get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a big day." He patted her on the shoulder and she nodded, not moving from her face down position.  
  
No sooner had the door closed behind Jefferson did the faint scent of jasmine begin to creep in, almost as if the spirit of the woman who was so pushy these last couple of weeks was now hesitant to make contact. Emma turned her face back into the bedding and groaned before turning to flop fully on her back.  
  
"Now is not a great time, Milah," she said, staring at the ceiling.  
  
 _Sorry about your friend._   
  
The words murmured in her head and Emma felt the lump in her throat that she'd refused to acknowledge until now rise up. She swallowed it down and scrunched her eyebrows together, willing the feeling away.   
  
"Thanks," she replied tersely. It was silent for a moment, but the botanic perfume still hung in the air.   
  
_Gold. Dangerous_.  
  
The murmur was quiet and Emma sighed at it.   
  
"Duh." Emma snorted. "I'm guessing you've heard more than you're letting on. Which means you know _I_ know how dangerous he is."  
  
 _Killer_ , the disembodied voice insisted.   
  
"Know that, too," she dismissed with a yawn.   
  
_My killer._   
  
Emma froze. That caught her attention. She hadn't seen the name 'Milah' in any of her paperwork.  
  
"Milah? Gold is your killer?" she questioned softly, sitting up on the bed. "Why? How do you even know him?"  
  
 _Married_.  
  
"Gold was never married, there's no record of anything like that," Emma said, her heart pounding at this revelation.   
  
_Not legal. Bought me_.   
  
"What the actual fuck, Milah? Are you serious? And you didn't think to tell me until now? Jesus!" Emma pressed both palms to her cheeks, trying to process all of this. She took a deep breath and released it on a shaky exhale. "I'm sorry, that was a lot of information. What happened, Milah? Why would he kill you?"  
  
It was quiet for another moment before the response came.  
  
 _Because I loved Killian_.

"You had an affair with Killian? Is he associated with Gold, too? Milah?" Emma knew she was just talking to open air now.   
  
Just as hesitantly as Milah had made her approach earlier was how quickly she departed the space. The familiar jasmine was no longer present and the voice was quiet.   
  
"Dammit." Emma flopped backwards on the bed and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes.   
  
What the fuck was she supposed to do now? She was all alone, her partner in the hospital with a collapsed lung, recovering from a gunshot wound, trying to save these women from a madman, and now this. If this Killian Jones was part of all of this, if he was even a little responsible for the deaths and kidnappings of innocent young women, Emma wasn't sure if she could save him. She wouldn't want to, and  _ that _ thought made her chest clench painfully.   
  
It was strange to think how undeniably attached Emma was to Killian Jones. She didn't make a habit of getting attached to anyone, and yet, the thought of him being part of a criminal organization, doing things as despicable as this, well, she didn't want to use the term "broke her heart" but it made more of an impact than she was willing to admit.   
  
She reached over to the bedside table and retrieved her sketchbook from its place there, flipping it open to look at Killian's face. With her finger, she traced the edge of his bearded jaw and the blue of his irises, contemplating how someone who looked so thoughtful and captivating could get mixed up in something like this. She shook her head. No, there had to be an explanation, and she wasn't even sure he  _ was _ mixed up in all of this.

But why did she even  _ care _ ? She didn't know him. He wasn't  _ anything _ to her, really, but when she looked at his face, she knew he was just a lost boy, like she was a lost girl. And, sure, he was attractive, but that was absolutely besides the point. The soulful sapphire eyes stared up at her from the page, and Emma felt the inexplicable urge to protect him. There was no way he was joined up with someone like Gold. She refused to believe it.   
  
She laid back on her pillow. Her head felt heavy, encumbered with the weight of the day's events. It was a lot to take in. And tomorrow, tomorrow she was Daniel walking straight into the lion's den. Like Daniel, she could only hope something was watching out for her.   
  
As she felt her eyes grow heavier, the dulcet tones of a low hummed lullaby permeated her foggy brain. The well known melody floated in the space around her and she finally allowed herself to fall into a dreamless slumber.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are at Chapter 8! This was originally a MUCH longer chapter (like double this size lol) because I got a little impatient wanting a certain character to make his appearance. There was just so much stuff going on with this chapter though, I had to split it. But fear not! Only one more week to go before we put our lovers face to face! In the meantime, I really hope you like this chapter. There' a couple new character intros, and Emma is going to go through a lot of intense stuff! As always, thank you thank you thank you to @kmomof4 for being a fantastic beta and for running this event for all of us, she's been a damn saint. Also huge ginormous thank you to @courtorderedcake who made the AMAZING art that goes with this fic. It's beyond good, seriously. And thank you to each and every person who liked, favorited, followed, reblogged, commented, left kudos, or even just read this little fic of mine. Each of you make my day! Without further ado, I give you Chapter 8!

Emma's heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. She walked through the hallway with the flickering fluorescent bulbs buzzing above her after the curvaceous redhead who was their "in" to this whole situation. Zelena was her name. No matter how many times Jefferson reassured her that she'd been a reliable criminal informant for years, Emma couldn't help but get a slightly  _ wicked _ vibe from her, like everything she did was for her own gain and working as a CI was just the most convenient position for her at the time. Nonetheless, she'd spent years infiltrating Gold's institution and making herself a close part of his inner circle. She'd sold information out on some of his lower level operatives before, but never on the man himself. It made Emma worry about how deep her loyalties actually lay.

 

Her thoughts flickered to Graham. She wished he was here. She wished he’d never gotten hurt because of her. But she was going to make it right, starting with this.  
  
"Showtime, darling," Zelena said with a grin, her English accent lilting, as they approached the door to Gold's office. She swung the door open and marched in as if she owned the place. Emma adjusted her glasses and scurried in behind her, trying to keep up but not wanting to appear too overly confident.  
  
Weaver Gold stood by his desk, polishing a teacup that had a large chink in the rim before setting it carefully down and turning towards the two women. His once brown hair was heavily streaked with gray, just long enough to dust his collar. Laugh lines and wrinkles had begun to settle on his impish face. Despite the signs of his aging, even Emma had to admit it was _unsettling_ to be in his presence, to say the least. He gave a twisted smirk in Emma's direction before setting his cold amber eyes on Zelena.   
  
"What have we here?" he asked, deadly amusement in his voice. Emma wasn't surprised to hear an accent in Gold's voice, too. She knew he was from London by way of Scotland. But it was strange to her to have encountered so many people from across the pond in such a short time. Hell, even the spirits in her life were British.  
  
"This is Emma Swan. She's been causing quite the stir in our lower ranks," Zelena said, bringing Emma's attention back to the matter at hand, and Gold's eyes flickered back to her briefly.   
  
"That so? In what way?" He turned his attention back to his desk as he rotated the teacup slightly, then picked up his cane from where it rested against the dark wood desk and made his way to his chair.  
  
"She's been poaching jobs, building herself a nest egg, it seems. She's quite the little purloiner," Zelena replied.  
  
"And this requires my attention because...?" Gold prompted, seating himself in the red velvet covered wingback chair behind his desk, tenting his fingers and studying Emma carefully.   
  
"I think she could be an asset. Obtain hard to find objects for us. She's got no record, no ties to, well, anyone, really. She's practically invisible." Zelena motioned to her as if it was obvious. Gold said nothing, only continued to study Emma.  
  
It took everything in Emma not to leap across the desk separating them and beat the old cripple within an inch of his life for what she'd seen him do to Marian Locksley. He was a slimy, unfeeling monster, that much was clear, a textbook sociopath who manipulated and used anyone he could. Emma was so close to taking him down she could _taste it_. She just had to keep her cool a little while longer.  
  
"Do you agree, Miss Swan?" Her 'name' hissed out past his teeth like an icy wind. Emma shivered at the sound.   
  
"What?" Emma had been so focused on keeping her calm that she'd blanked out what Zelena had said. The redhead pursed her lips and gave Emma a sidelong glance of exasperation.  
  
"Do you agree that you're an asset?" Gold asked, almost giddy with her discomfort. Emma shrugged.  
  
"I have my moments," she snarked through gritted teeth. Gold smiled darkly at her, his golden tooth catching the light briefly.  
  
"I have no use for inconsistency. And if you're as disruptive as Zelena tells me, perhaps I should just kill you and be rid of the issue altogether," he spoke as if he were bored. Bile began to rise in her throat.   
  
"No, she's just being modest," Zelena assured the man. "Tell him." She looked at Emma desperately, trying to silently convey to her that she needed to defend herself. Emma caught on quickly.   
  
"I haven't ever been caught. I've seen things, lifted things, that everyone has said were impossible to reach. I'm pretty handy with a lockpick. I can override advanced security systems within a five minute window. If I want something, I can usually get it." She rattled off the qualifications she'd memorized from her file rapid fire, trying to quell the shaking of her hands. She knew Jefferson was listening, even though he hadn't said a word, but that was of little comfort if he was just going to listen to her die the first time she even met their target.  
  
Gold watched her with a quiet intensity the whole time she spoke, mouth twitching at the corner in a smirk at her squirming. He stood, effectively silencing Emma. She held her breath as he walked to her, leaning heavily on his ornate gold handled cane. The _tap tap tap_ against the floor was immediately reminiscent of her vision of Marian's death and her stomach tightened at the memory. He stood before her, looking her over, studying her silently, searching for... something. She held his gaze as she stood under scrutiny until she felt like if she looked any further she was liable to snap. She glanced down at her shoes and Gold let out a high pitched, maniacal giggle. It should have felt out of character, but it just added to his sinister aura. It seemed her submission was what he'd been waiting for.  
  
"Oh, yes. I think I have something just _perfect_ for you," he murmured. She felt Zelena shift uncomfortably beside her and she lifted her gaze to meet Gold's once more. He gave her one last once over and turned again, making his way back to his desk and the filing cabinet beside it. Shuffling through a few papers, he withdrew a single sheet and laid it on the desk. Zelena took a few steps closer and Emma moved automatically beside her. The paper was a picture, some sort of device that looked like a bulky calculator, with a lot of buttons and a green screen at the top. Several numbers that looked like coordinates were on display. She hoped Jefferson was getting all of this.  
  
"You can't be serious, Weaver," Zelena said in disbelief. "You're going to send her straight into the fire on her first job?" Zelena's green eyes flashed up to Gold's and Emma could have sworn she saw a hint of fear there.  
  
"I am _entirely_ serious, and you'd do best to hold your tongue," Gold replied through clenched teeth. "If she's as good as _your word_ ," he emphasized and Zelena gulped, "she should have no trouble at all." Zelena paused only a moment longer before plastering on a large, bright, mechanical smile and shaking her head.  
  
"No, no, you're right, of course. She can handle it, I'm sure." The smile remained in place, too many teeth and not reaching her eyes. Gold gave her a softer smile and a brief "Good," before turning back to Emma.  
  
"This device was stolen from me some weeks ago and all efforts to retrieve it thus far have been fruitless. It has no value to anyone other than myself and it is imperative that I do receive it back as soon as possible. Very time sensitive. It's being held at a compound belonging to a... _competitor_ of mine." He moved around the desk to a large atlas on the opposite end from where he had set the picture. Thumbing his way through a few pages, he stopped on one. Without waiting for the women to join him he pointed to the map he'd turned to. In the very short time she'd been in Weaver Gold's presence she learned that he didn't wait for others.   
  
"This is the compound where the item is being kept. You sneak in, get the device, sneak out, return it to me. If you're successful, you won't even run into Hook," he informed her. The hairs on the back of Emma's neck stood on end and jasmine filtered into her senses. She felt even more panicked.  
  
 _Not now, please not now_ , she thought as hard as she could, hoping Milah could hear her plea.   
  
"What is this 'Hook' and how do I avoid it?" Emma asked and the scent of jasmine grew sharper. Emma shook her head briefly, trying to rattle free of the oncoming encounter. Gold chuckled.  
  
"Hook is a _parasite_ ," he sneered. "A worm below men. All you have to worry about is staying in the shadows and Hook won't be a problem for you."  
  
Gold began to point at different cross streets on the map, explaining entry points and known and possible security measures for the compound. Hook must be the competitor, Emma realized from the way Gold spoke of him. If he was someone Weaver Gold hadn't taken on himself, she could only imagine what kind of monster he was. Whispers began to tickle the back of her mind.  
  
 _Save him._  
  
 ** _Save him._**  
  
 ** _SAVE HIM._**   
  
The letters K and J flickered at the edge of her minds eye and Emma felt like she was going to panic.  
  
 _Milah,_ ** _please_** , she thought at the spirit desperately. _Please, I'll listen to you when I'm out of here, but I can't concentrate and you know better than anyone that I need to focus. He could hurt me if this doesn't go his way._  
  
The whispers quieted. The scent of jasmine receded, but still lingered in the air. Milah was still there, but she was stepping back for now. This was her way of letting Emma know she received the message.  
  
"Thank you," she breathed, not realizing she'd said it out loud.   
  
"You're welcome, Miss Swan. Don't squander this opportunity," Gold replied and Emma's heart skipped a beat at her utterance and his having heard it. Thankfully, it was something she could just play off. "Zelena, show our guest out. You have twenty-four hours to return. Use them wisely." Gold made his way back behind his ornate desk and seated himself in the chair like a king on his throne. Zelena slipped her hand around Emma's elbow and began to pull her away. "Oh, and Miss Swan?" The two women paused and looked back at Gold. "If you do happen to be caught and Hook gets his hand on you, you're not to breathe a word of what you saw today. He may hurt you, maybe kill you, but betray me and you'll suffer far worse consequences than he or you could ever dream up. Do we have an understanding, dearie?" He smirked again as Emma's eyes widened and her throat ran dry. She gave a brisk nod in response, unable to vocalize anything. "Good. Best of luck, Miss Swan."  
  
Zelena pulled Emma from the room quickly and shut the door behind them. They both stood for a moment, catching their breaths as if they'd just run a mile.  
  
"I can't really tell if he likes you or not," Zelena mused, breathlessly. She gave a little "hmm" sound in the back of her throat and shrugged moving Emma along down the corridor from whence they came.   
  
"How am I supposed to get this thing in twenty-four hours?" Emma grumbled, trying to keep Zelena's brisk pace towards the exit.   
  
"Move quickly, and finish the job sooner rather than later," Zelena replied. "Gold will be expecting that I take you there now, actually. I hope you paid attention in class, because this is your pop quiz." She gave a little giggle snort at her joke and a deep feeling of dread settle in her stomach. That feeling only grew when they turned down the final corridor.   
  
The large blue doors with paint peeling around the edges at the end of the short hallway almost gave her pause and suddenly she realized. She was walking the same path Marian had taken in her desperate last attempt at escape. She couldn't help the way her eyes immediately dropped to the floor in front of the doors where Marian had fallen and Gold had ended her life. Her breath caught in her throat. There was no trace of the tragedy that had befallen the young mother. No stain of blood, no imprint of where her body had last lain, nothing to indicate she had ever been there. But she _had_ been there. Emma _knew_ she had. And rage bubbled in her chest at the thought.   
  
She wanted to turn around and throw Gold onto the floor, just as he had shot Marian to the ground. She wanted to see the terror in his eyes as she slapped handcuffs around his wrists and his life reduced to nothing but a 5x5 box for the rest of his days. Zelena threw the doors open and sunlight flooded her vision. Her body moving automatically, she took her first steps from the building. Before she could turn herself around and do anything rash, electronic crackling sounded in her ear.  
  
"- _hear m... Em... can you hear me? Respond if you can hear me with a cough. Emma can you hear me_ -" Jefferson's voice came clearer with every step she took from the building. She coughed loudly, interrupting him and causing Zelena to throw a befuddled look over her shoulder. Emma gave an apologetic smile in response and continued to follow her.  
  
" _Okay, it looks like all systems are back up. I have visual and audio again. I don't know what the hell happened, Emma, but they must have some kind of jammer in the building. None of your feed came through. Look up at the sky if you can talk freely_ ," Jefferson instructed. Despite Zelena being their cover into the organization, certain aspects of the operation were on a need to know basis. The fact that Emma had a camera on her face and Jefferson in her ear was not something Zelena needed to know. It was all too easy for someone to say something or tip off the wrong person and Emma would be in real danger.   
  
So she didn't look at the sky. In fact, she looked towards the woman she was with in confirmation that she couldn't talk.   
  
" _Loud and clear. If there's anything I need to know, try to work it into the conversation_ ," Jefferson said.  
  
Emma cleared her throat again.  
  
"Are you alright?" Zelena asked as the two approached an ugly green station wagon that looked like it had driven itself right out of 1972. She waved at Emma to get in the passenger side.  
  
"Yeah, I'm good. Just nervous about this Hook guy," she said, pointedly enough that she hoped Jefferson got it. Zelena settled in her seat as turned the car on with a chuckle.  
  
"Well you're playing with the big boys, now. You didn't think it would be easy, did you?" She pulled them out of the lot in front of the tall brick building with ease.   
  
"It's just 24 hours? To break into a compound and steal something that Gold hasn't recovered by now? After weeks? It's a little unsettling," she replied, shifting in her seat.  
  
"Get used to it, sweetheart, you're in for a hell of a ride," Zelena dismissed, taking them further to their destination.  
  
" _Emma, this is too dangerous, you can't go into unknown criminal territory, we don't know what to expect or how to keep you safe_ ," Jefferson insisted in her ear. Emma knew he was right. " _Buy yourself a couple hours at least_."  
  
"Okay, so let's scout it, then you can take me back to my hotel so I can get my kit and change. I can form a plan of attack from there," Emma said, giving Zelena a sidelong glance.  
  
She seemed satisfied with that and they went to the spot on the map that Gold had pointed out earlier. Zelena parked on a hill overlooking what seemed to be a series of large shipping containers next to one another that formed a warehouse compound of sorts. It was very unlike the old brick building Gold occupied and it made Emma feel a little uneasy.   
  
Her time with Neal had been educational, for lack of a better term. He didn't necessarily live his life to the letter of the law and, mostly because of his influence, the qualifications that she gave Gold earlier weren't entirely stretched either. Neal had passed on quite a few tricks to her along the way. He stole a lot, mostly small things to get by. Food and such. Things he could fence quickly and keep his apartment paid up. His criminal record had kept him from getting real jobs and he'd always fallen back on hustling. Emma knew how to pick locks and disarm security panels because of him. If Ruby had ever known what they had been up to and that the bad boy appeal wasn't just an act, she would have kicked Neal and Emma's asses six ways from Sunday. When Neal died and the cops started asking her questions about his income, she was scared straight. So straight she became a cop herself and the fastest rising detective in the history of her precinct. Her 'skills' were known to Regina and that's why she'd been selected for this assignment in the first place.   
  
Zelena pointed out a few buildings, identifying them as storage, clubhouse, and even living spaces, all potential locations for the device she was looking for. Each building had a security lock that required an ID swipe and a pin number to enter. And they were all different pin numbers. Emma knew something that was this unattainable would likely be kept closer to Hook's person. The living quarters was her best start. The whole of the compound was surrounded by ten foot double chain link fences topped off with barbed and razor wire. In the time the two women sat there, a beat up Ford truck circled the lot no less than three times. It was a patrol. In the center, there was a large tower like structure that Zelena explained held a command center of sorts. It was their watchtower and contained an office where security footage was monitored. This place was locked down like Fort Knox.  
  
When Emma felt sufficiently informed, she and Zelena returned to the motel room she was staying in. Zelena didn't come in, for which Emma was grateful when she opened the door to a pacing Jefferson.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much to every single person who is reading this story for hanging in there with me up to this point :D I know this was an nontraditional approach to a Captain Swan story, but I am really so grateful to every one of you reading. Love all of your faces. And we still have plenty to go! THE BIGGEST LOVE to @kmomof4 who is a fantastic beta and overall amazing person, and to @courtorderedcake as well who is so talented I could die for the GORGEOUS art at the beginning of each chapter!!! NOW!
> 
> *drops chapter and runs away* See you next week!! Muahahaha

 

"Uh, hi?" Emma said cautiously, throwing a last look over her shoulder to make sure Zelena was gone before shutting the door. Jefferson only looked up long enough to send Emma a unsettled glance before resuming his frantic to and fro across the carpet.  
  
"So, you're not doing this. Not alone. You don't have a partner or backup and we have to figure something out so this whole undercover thing isn't blown. Shit!" Jefferson ranted, chewing viciously on his thumbnail as he paced.   
  
"What?! Jefferson we cannot jeopardize this op. This is our chance to get justice for dozens of women! To take down a huge criminal enterprise! If this is my in, then I'm taking it. Take it up with Mills if you have to, but I'm doing this," she snapped. Jefferson looked up at her, hand clasped over his mouth, and sighed deeply through his nose before dragging his hand down and over the stubble on his jaw.   
  
"Emma, this is a question of your safety. I did some digging and turned up virtually nothing on this 'Hook' guy. No one in relation to Gold or any major criminal in the Boston area has been arrested under that alias. The only time that name even pops up is a few whispers from our CI’s that he was responsible for a couple of Gold’s ops going south, and when we arrested a guy named Will Scarlett for grand theft auto and he mentioned it to someone on his one recorded phone call, just to tell the person he was talking to to ask for bail money from him. There's no information on that compound Zelena took you to, the deed is under a fake name, no police activity has been reported there, hell, if you hadn't gone out there, I'm sure we wouldn't have known it existed!" Jefferson's voice had increased in volume throughout the tirade and Emma crossed her arms over her chest.   
  
"Well, we know he exists, then. And that compound may be locked up tight, but all of their security measures are things I know how to get past! This is where my skill set comes into play, and you'll be in my ear the whole time in case shit goes south," she replied. Emma wasn't backing down on this. Not when they were so close to closing so many cases.   
  
"And what happens when you get in this place and it's the same as Gold's, hmm? What do you do by yourself in a criminal lair during a communications blackout?" he asked. His eyebrows stayed high on his forehead, his eyes wide. He looked like he was ready to tear his hair out at any second.   
  
"Did you just say 'criminal lair'? Calm down, Batman," she said with a snort and Jefferson gave her a look of sheer exasperation. "And I thought I did pretty well in Gold's place without you. You know exactly where I'll be. I have a plan that'll get me in and out in an hour and a half. Half the compound is outside, for crying out loud. We won't go dark."   
  
"You were invited into Gold's place. This is totally different. We are going in blind here, Emma," he reasoned.   
  
"You're just going to have to _trust me_ ," she said insistently. "Trust that I know what I'm doing. Trust in my capabilities. I've got this, Jefferson."   
  
Jefferson sighed heavily and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.   
  
"I don't like this," he replied after a beat.   
  
"I've heard that a lot lately," she said with a slight laugh. "But I've made the right decisions this whole time. We're too close to let this slip."

He stared at her hard for several moments before his shoulders slumped in defeat.  
  
“Dammit, let's set this up.”   
  
An hour and forty five minutes later, the sun had set Emma was on her way under the cover of nightfall. She and Jefferson had reviewed the footage she'd captured on her glasses. She had a schedule, an entry point, and a plan of action. She would start in the living area, move on to the clubhouse, then finally, storage. In and out. Minimal time.   
  
She flicked her headlights off as she approached the ridge where she'd done surveillance with Zelena earlier in the day, cloaking the bright yellow bug in darkness. After parking near where she and Zelena had before, she moved a few branches to further conceal the vehicle and began her descent towards the compound.   
  
She rounded the corner of the chain link fence, wire cutters in hand, combat style boots crunching in the hard dirt around her. Every noise that came from her seemed amplified, and she tried to walk very softly, but she could only do so much. She adjusted the olive colored messenger bag from where it lay across her shoulder and crouched down, pulling up the waist of her black jeans where they had slipped down her hips. There were only twenty minutes before patrol came by again. She had one shot to get through both fences without drawing attention.   
  
This was the only section of the fence in a blind spot for both the guard towers and the cameras, due to a large bush growing into the fence itself. It was a great cover for the damage to the fence as well. The overlapping honeycomb pattern of the two fences pressed to each other made it difficult to squeeze the wire cutters through, but Emma managed. The black leather gloves she wore squeaked against the rubber handle of the tool as she made the first clip. The metal whined and rattled as the pieces began to snap apart.   
  
" _Doing good, Emma_ ," Jefferson said in her ear. Emma jumped what felt like two feet off the ground, startled so much she dropped the wire cutters.   
  
"Dammit, Jefferson, I'm trying to concentrate," she whisper-shouted as she felt around on the ground for the tool. Jefferson mumbled an apology and she looked back to the side quickly, causing her glasses to fall off her face to the dirt as well. She resisted the urge to groan in frustration and felt around for those as well. She couldn't risk turning on a flashlight and giving away her position.   
  
" _You went dark, Emma, all good_ ?" Jefferson asked. Emma felt around shifting back on her feet to give her more space in her crouched position   
  
"Yeah, glasses just fell, too. I'm trying-"   
  
_CRUNCH_ .   
  
" _Argh! What the fuck?!_ " Jefferson shouted and a clatter was heard through the speakers. Emma winced, not only at the volume of his voice but because she knew what her foot had just shifted on top of. She retrieved the mangled glasses from beneath her boot and her hand bumped into the snips as well. She grabbed them angrily and brought the glasses to her face to inspect them as well she could in the light of the moon. She tugged a glove off with her teeth and palpated the frames.   
  
" _Emma are you there? There was a ton of frequency and then nothing, what happened?_ " Jefferson asked.   
  
Emma pulled the glove from her mouth and her now bare fingers slid over the exposed wires and cracked plastic, sighing deeply.   
  
"I just crunched my glasses. Can you still hear me?" Emma whispered, mouth close to the ruined device.   
  
Silence.   
  
" _Shit, not again. Emma, come in. Respond if you can hear me,_ " Jefferson said.   
  
_Damn_ , she cursed in her head.   
  
She didn't have time for this. Patrol was coming back in ten minutes, her time now cut in half.   
  
" _Emma, I'm assuming you've gone dark. Abort mission. Come back to the safe house if you can hear me,_ " he instructed. Emma squeezed her eyes shut. She was already here. There wouldn't be another opening like this until after her 24 hours were up.   
  
" _Emma, abort mission. Abort. God, I hope you can hear me,_ " Jefferson continued.   
  
Emma made her decision. She reached up and dug the clear plastic ear insert from her left ear, stuffing it in the pocket of the black hoodie she was wearing along with the ruined glasses and pulling her glove back on. She was doing this. Tugging her gray beanie down over her ears, she doubled down on clipping through the fence. When there was an opening large enough for her to squeeze through, she did so, just as she saw headlights from the patrol truck heading towards the opposite corner from where she was. They would be turning her direction any second.   
  
Emma jammed the snips in her pocket and sprinted for the nearest building, bag bouncing against her leg and her heart pounding with how close she came to getting caught. Making her way around the cold metal exterior quickly, she found the door to the living quarters quickly, staying well out of sight of any cameras. The panel was one she wasn't quite familiar with, but she knew the basics for systems like this were all the same. It was all about determining which wire she needed. She opened the messenger bag, cleaned out the contents of her pocket into it and pulled out a screwdriver, a flashlight, and a pair of smaller wire cutters. She made quick work of the panel face and clicked the dim flashlight on, sticking it into her mouth for stability. Her back was facing the guard tower, concealing the majority of the light from that angle, but she needed to see and she prayed this didn't give her away. Oddly enough, this was the riskiest part of her plan. Looking at the wires feeding into the computer parts and the building, Emma's instincts kicked in, identifying the ground wire quickly and snipping it. The door next to her let out a heavy click and she knew it had worked.   
  
After stowing her tools again, she turned the doorknob carefully and the door swung open, revealing a corridor with several doors on neither side and one at the end. It was a red door, where all the others were blue, and labeled with the warning " _ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE_ " painted in bold letters directly onto the door.   
  
Well.   
  
Emma made her way more quietly than she thought she could, considering there was only the sound of the central air system pumping through the vents to accompany her. No signs of life anywhere. When she reached the door, a chill went down her spine and goose pimples broke out on her arms and the back of her neck. Jasmine crept in and Emma almost panicked.   
  
Milah didn't say anything. The floral fragrance was light on the air this time, and it seemed more like curiosity from the spirit. Anticipation? As if she wanted Emma to be aware that she was present, but she didn't intend to interfere. She was just an observer. Tentatively, she reached out and tried the handle.   
  
"Of course," she muttered as the doorknob rattled against its lock. She dug through her bag, pulling free her lockpicking kit and the flashlight again and began to work on the lock. A few pins and tumblers later, the door swung open.   
  
The room was clearly an office of sorts, the flickering lamp that Emma turned on once the door closed safely behind her revealed an immaculately kept cherry wood desk sat in the center, a lone leather rolling chair behind it. The desk had a red felt liner on the top of it where a clipboard with papers attached lay next to an old fashioned fountain pen set up. Two more modern pens lay next to it as well. The south wall was lined with filing cabinets and shelves, many of the shelves containing what looked to be personal effects. No pictures identifying this 'Hook' person were around, but a folded Union Jack flag with dog tags draped over it sat next to a picture of a large naval ship. There was also a charcoal sketch of a beautiful woman, dark wavy hair hanging over her shoulder, eyes round and knowing. The scent of jasmine she'd all but forgotten was present flared for a moment, but died back down to the gentle fragrance it was before, so Emma focused back on the task at hand. All of this was inconsequential and Emma decided to do some digging. Starting with that desk.   
  
She tried all the drawers, each perfectly organized, precision and order seemingly this Hook person's forte. The bottom left drawer, however, was locked. She made quick work of that with her lockpicking expertise and pulled it open.   
  
Jackpot.   
  
There were only two items in the drawer. One was an older style flip phone that was turned off. Emma placed that back in the drawer as soon as she picked it up. She wasn't after the phone. The other item though, she recognized immediately. It was the device Weaver Gold was after. She hastily shoved it into the bag she carried, along with her kit, before shutting the drawer and making sure nothing was out of place. Before leaving the room, she switched off the light and backed out the door.   
  
_Almost home free, this was too easy,_ she thought giddily. She smirked to herself as she closed the door quietly and stepped back from it. Right into a solid something. Or rather, someone.   
  
An arm looped around her waist and held her tightly in place against the torso behind her and a hand came up to place what felt like a Crocodile Dundee worthy knife against her throat, cutting off her shriek of surprise and taking the struggle right out of her. She of course remained alert and her brain scanned through every option she could think of to escape, but there would be no wiggling free with a blade pressing into her skin. Her skin exploded into goosebumps as a stubbled face pressed close to her ear and the scent of jasmine spiked all around her, mingling with a very real scent of rum and cologne.   
  
"Come now, love," a deep English accent purred in her ear, a sharp contradiction to the dangerous hold the man had her in. "Don't you know it's rude to leave without saying goodbye to your host?"   
  
Emma stiffened in his grip further and Milah's presence was clawing at every angle of her inner being, whispers of **_SAVE HIM_ ** overlapping each other, the jasmine perfume so powerful now it almost nauseated her. She could hardly think with all of the information swirling through her brain, coupled with the most intense encounter with Milah she'd had yet, not to mention the all consuming _fear for her life_ . Then everything stopped and her blood ran cold as she realized who's grip she was in.   
  
" _Hook_ ," she breathed.   
  
And then her world went black.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty. Chapter ten! About halfway through what I have planned for this fic, but I'm not committing to anything just yet in case things change lol. I'm so so glad to see you all loved Hook's intro. I've gotten a little behind in my replies to you all, but I hope to be caught up before the next update ^_^ This is gonna get a little more into it, Hook's identity being revealed and Emma realizing just who the heck this is, some more ghosty goodness, and a new proposition muahaha. Also, please don't skin me alive if the translations aren't right on this lol. Sometimes Google is your friend, sometimes it's not. I hope you guys like it and thank you so much for reading!!! And thank you thank you thank you to @kmomof4 who is an AMAZING beta and to @courtorderedcake who is the creator of the gorgeous banner you see at the beginning of each chapter!!!! Enjoy Chapter 10!

 

Emma groaned as consciousness returned to her, her vision slightly fuzzy around the edges and the back of her head throbbing. Her ass was cold and numb, the concrete floor beneath her unforgiving. She tried to bring her hand up to cup the sensitive area of her head and realized she was restrained. Her senses immediately went on high alert as she assessed the situation. She looked around the room and realized she was still in Hook’s compound, the thick steel walls of the room she was in being a dead giveaway. She looked up as much as she could and saw that she was tied to some sort of large support beam in the center of the space, with rope, if the rough material currently rubbing her wrists raw was anything to go by. Her arms were almost stretched to the limit behind her back, giving her very little room to work with.

 

_Fucking savages_ , she grumbled in her head as she pressed her shoulders back into the beam and slid upwards to standing and surveyed the room for anything that might have helped her. How long had she been out? _Oh fuck, Jefferson,_ she thought frantically. She listened carefully for the sounds of sirens or footsteps and heard nothing. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing just yet. There was a small desk near the wall to her right, her pack laying open on it, all the contents splayed out over the metal surface (including that _stupid_ device), and a ratty looking couch to her left. There were no windows and a single door from her vantage point. She tried to rotate herself around the beam, but her aching shoulders wouldn’t allow the strain without dislocating themselves.

 

She let out a heavy sigh.

 

“Well, you’ve really gotten yourself in some shit this time, Emma,” she said to herself out loud. She tried her wrists again, attempting to catch the rope on the square corners without luck. Her head dropped in defeat and she winced, her skull throbbing with the movement. She probably had a concussion. Scratch that, she _definitely_ had a concussion if she’d been knocked out. She blew an errant strand of hair that had fallen from her ponytail out of her face. And then, because she just had the worst luck in the world, a buzzing began in the back of her consciousness and floral perfume invaded her senses.

 

She laughed out loud, because if she didn’t, she just might cry at Milah’s consistently inopportune timing.

 

“Come to see me off?” she muttered aloud, a bitter humor in her voice.

 

_Here to help_ , Milah murmured inside her head and Emma scoffed harshly.

 

“Oh yeah, if you could go get some help, that would be fan-fucking-tastic,” she bit out, knowing there was no way the spirit could assist her in this predicament. Milah didn’t reply with words and Emma was almost glad for it, except for when her vision started to fill with the letters she had come to dread. “Are you kidding me right now? How am I supposed to help you with your boyfriend while I’m strapped to a steel beam?” She was angry now. She was going to give up the search for Killian Jones altogether after she got out of this. _If_ she got out of this. There had to be some kind of cleansing voodoo she could do to make this all just _stop_.

 

_He’s coming…_

 

Milah’s voice startled her from her musings and she tried to calm her racing heartbeat. She knew she would be in better shape if she was calm.

 

“Who is? Who’s coming?” she asked, her tone insistent, the sound of a heavy door opening behind her as the words left her mouth. Jasmine surged around her again and she shook her head.

 

_Dammit, Milah,_ **_not now_ ** _._

 

“Chatting with yourself, darling? That bonk to the noggin must have been harder than I thought,” a warm English baritone said just out of her purview.

 

_Hook_ , she thought with distaste. His voice was impossible not to remember. She tried to turn her head around to see the source, but of course, it was useless.

 

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s not nice to hit girls?” she said through gritted teeth, hands pulling at her bonds again.

 

“Didn’t _your_ mother ever teach you it’s not nice to take things that don’t belong to you?” he quipped back, rifling through something noisily behind her before slamming something shut, a metal drawer, she assumed, but she had no idea what it went to.

 

“Haven't got one,” she said flippantly. “Don’t suppose I could talk you into a bathroom break, could I?” She shifted on her feet, widening her stance with a little bounce to indicate a pressing need from her bladder, even if it (surprisingly) didn’t exist. If she had to, maybe she could kick out and keep him at bay until she found something to free herself. Maybe he’d drop that buck knife he’d threatened her with before. Wishful thinking. Footsteps closed in on her from behind, setting her on edge again.

 

“Perhaps after you’ve answered some questions, love,” he murmured next to her ear. She jerked away from the sound, trying to whip her head around to see his face, but he was already walking past her to the desk she’d seen earlier, left arm cradled in front of him like he was carrying something.

 

She watched him as he moved, his back to her the entire time, and he seemed so… _familiar_. Like she had seen him somewhere before, but she couldn’t place him without seeing his face. He was fairly tall, well dressed in a long sleeve collared shirt, black waistcoat, and slacks, with dark hair that looked intentionally messy on top of his head. Nylon straps that appeared to be for some kind of holster criss crossed over his back, and more of the same material led down his upper left arm, a thin metal cable running alongside them and disappearing around his front.

 

He dropped a few items on the table, a clipboard with paper attached, that humongous knife, a binder, and… _was that a fucking taser?!_ Emma’s heart rate resumed its galloping pace as her eyes stayed fixed on the weapons he had laid out. Until he turned around and her heart stopped altogether as she found herself looking directly into a pair of vibrant blue eyes that she would have recognized anywhere. Milah, it seemed, recognized them as well, and chose that moment to make her reappearance because a blinding pain hit Emma in the temple, thankfully for only a brief moment, as a voice practically screamed in her head.

 

**_SAVE HIM._ **

 

Killian Jones.

 

Emma would have laughed if she wasn’t so stricken.

 

“You're real,” she breathed before her brain caught up with her mouth and he quirked a dark brow at the utterance. “Uh, real...ly gonna regret this.” _Great Emma, piss off the guy with a taser and a knife while you’re tied up. You’re a goddamn genius,_ she thought to herself.

 

_Won’t hurt you,_ Milah whispered and Emma had to suppress a snort.  
  
Hook continued to regard her with quiet intensity, but a spark of amusement lit up his blue eyes, making them almost sparkle.

 

“I’m not sure if your employer made you aware of the perils of your little visit to my establishment,” he began, walking around the desk and back to stand face to face with her. “Or maybe he did and you’re just a fool.” He stopped and looked at her again. “You don’t look like a fool. Maybe a little naive.”

 

“Buddy, I have no idea who you are or what this place is. It was locked down like you were hiding the Hope Diamond, so I figured there would be something in here that could keep me from sleeping in my car another night.” She shrugged as much she could within her bonds, but it ended up being more of a head tilt. She looked him over again now from the front. The blue button down he wore complimented the shade of his eyes. There were dark circles underneath them as if he hadn’t slept in days. His sleeves were rolled up at the elbows, a tattoo on his forearm of a heart and some script she couldn’t quite make out on the right arm, and a prosthetic in place on the left. Instead of a false hand, there was a two pronged hook at the end of it, and Emma now knew where the moniker came from. The hook opened and closed with the movement of his arm, making him seem even more menacing.  
  
He chuckled low in his throat, drawing her attention back to his face, his mouth twisting in a wry smile.

 

“Do not lie to me, darling,” he said darkly. “It will not bode well for you.” He walked back to the table and picked up the knife. Emma swallowed thickly.

 

“Look, I’m just a nobody, I really don’t want any trouble-” she blurted, and the scent of floral perfume made her head swim.

 

“ _DO NOT LIE TO ME!_ ” he roared and slammed the knife into the desk, piercing straight through the thin metal flat top, a horrible screeching sound erupting from the clash. His face was twisted into a snarl, chest heaving as he drew breath, eyes glittering with rage. A thought ran through Emma’s mind that this might be how she dies.

 

The low buzzing that had been present before grew exponentially and a swarm of words attacked her consciousness; she wasn’t sure all of them were even English.

 

_KILLIAN, STOP, AGRÀ, PLEASE, LOVE, HELP, KILLIAN, KILLIAN, KILLIAN_

 

“Milah, _shut up!_ ” she yelled and Killian froze, his shock widened eyes flashing to her face. Emma paled as she realized that she’d used the spirit’s name out loud. Milah quieted, but the sweet perfume was still burning her olfactory senses.

 

Jones stared at her for a long moment before he snapped, wrenching the knife free from the hole in the desk it had created. He was on her in a second, pressing the knife hard against her throat.

 

“How do you know that name?” he growled, his voice broken and raw. Emma’s eyes squeezed shut and she tried to turn her head away from him but he pressed the blade tighter to her skin. “ _How?_ ” he demanded.

 

“I’m a medium!” she blurted before she could think. The pressure at her throat drew back slightly and she opened her eyes slowly, chancing a look at him. He was looking at her in sheer disbelief, unable to even form a reply. “I know I sound crazy, but it’s true. I bought a shirt, Milah made contact and she’s, uh, kinda stuck around ever since.”

 

Hook lowered the knife and stared at her. His eyes brightened for a moment like he’d thought of something before settling back into fury. He hooked the edge of his prosthetic into the fabric at his elbow on the opposite arm, pulling at it with sharp little yanks down his forearm to cover his tattoo, his blazing eyes glued to hers. Before he could cover it completely, she saw the writing. _Milah_.

 

“You are observant, I’ll give you that.” He laughed, a bitter sound. Emma felt panic rise up like bile in her blood as she followed his train of thought. “But the whole ‘I see dead people’ act,” he sucked his cheeks audibly and bobbed his head from side to side, “it’s a little 1999, don’t you think?”

 

“Ahhh ha…” she let out a nervous laugh. “That’s a good one. But I’m being completely serious. You’re… actually the first person I’ve ever told that to.” Her forehead wrinkled in confusion at her own actions as she said it out loud and Milah’s scent rose gently around her, reminding Emma of her presence.

 

“Oh, well then I guess that makes me special,” he scoffed.

 

“Okay. Okay. I need you to let me say all of this before you fly off the handle again, okay?” she coaxed. He looked like he was torn between holding on to his rage and actually listening. Slowly, he nodded for her to continue. Emma’s knees almost gave out in relief. She clenched her jaw as the sag of her body pulled her bound muscles tighter, straightening herself back up almost immediately.

 

“Alright. So, you were right before. I lied. I was sent here to steal something from you. I owe a really powerful guy a really big debt, and this is penance. I don’t know what that thing is or why he wants it, I swear,” she said, holding eye contact with him the whole time she spoke. His gaze was hardening against her rapidly. She needed to bring him back. “But I am telling you the truth now. I talk to Milah nearly every day.” Her words had the opposite effect she had hoped for and his lip curled upwards, the only warning she got before the knife edged pressed against the skin under her jaw once more.

 

“Why the bloody hell should I believe you?” he snarled, and she felt the skin finally break under the edge of the knife, a rivulet of blood trailing down her throat.

 

_Agrà, please,_ Milah whispered again. Emma’s eyes widened in realization of how she could make him believe her (and possibly save her life).

 

“Agrà! She says Agrà!” Emma nearly shouted.

 

Hook froze and his eyes flooded with pain and nostalgia. He recognized the word. He wanted to believe. Emma just had to hope it was enough. That hope grew as he withdrew the knife and walked away from her, apparently weighing his options. She held her breath as he paced, rubbing a hand over his jaw. Once he'd made his decision, he turned back to face her, marching past her without a word and Emma tensed, wondering what he was about to do.

 

“The fact that you know her name and her mannerisms only solidifies your connection to Gold,” he said behind her and Emma felt like she was going to throw up. He was certainly going to kill her now. “Luckily for you, I am of a… _magnanimous_ inclination today,” he continued, taking her by absolute surprise. Her shoulders jerked painfully against the post as he sliced the rope around her wrists and she was freed.

 

“You’re going to let me go?” she asked carefully, rubbing her tender wrists with her hands and rolling her stiff shoulders. She watched him like a hawk as he came back into view.

 

“Oh, aye,” he said, but Emma remained cautious. “I find you’re more useful to me alive than dead. But you’re going to do something for me.”

 

Emma’s heart dropped into her stomach.

 

“I have something that I’m in need of that Gold has possession of. No one on his side has ever been brave enough to cross him, but you're different. I can tell,” he said moving to fetch the binder from the desk.  
  
"Okay, we can talk about that, but I have to get in touch with my contact. Or he's gonna send a ton of guys in here. He's kinda protective of me," she said. She was surprised the place hadn't been raided already. Hook thought for a moment, then nodded, digging a cell phone from his pocket and tossing it to her. She bobbled it a few times, not expecting the throw, before it landed safely in her hands. She dialed Jefferson immediately on the safe line.

 

“Speaker,” he instructed as it began to ring and Emma complied immediately, not wanting to further incense him.

 

“Hello?” Jefferson's voice rang out after just a few rings.  
  
"Hey, Chapelle, it's Swan," she said, using their code names to signal someone was listening. Hook was watching with dark intensity as she spoke.  
  
"Holy shit, Emma, thank God. Are you okay? It's been three hours, I was about to send in the cavalry," he replied and Emma's stomach dropped to her feet at that thought. Keeping her composure, she only shot a look at Killian that said 'told you so', to which he rolled his eyes dramatically.

 

“No, no, I'm fine. Just a little hold up in the plan,” she admitted and Hook held a finger to his lips, indicating she wasn't to tell her contact about him or his plan to flip her. She'd just have to fill him in later. “I almost had the device, but I had to hide because I almost got caught. I'm gonna lay low where I'm at in my car for the night.”

 

Hook nodded his approval at her lie.

 

“Which is where?” Jefferson asked, his voice on edge. Emma looked at Hook for guidance and he shrugged, face impassive.

 

“Uhh, I'm not really sure. I'm near the compound on one of these back roads. I've seen a couple trucks drive by and I didn't want to risk it,”  she said and Hook's eyes continued to bore into her, surprised and impressed at her ability to think on the fly and she suddenly realized this was a test of sorts.

 

“Why haven't you been answering your phone? And what's this number you're calling on?” he continued to drill her and Emma groaned.

 

“It's been off, Chapelle, jeez. Calm down. This is a burner I picked up. Flip phone, easier to carry,” she lied again, knowing he was figuring out things weren't right. He already knew someone had to be listening, and she was sure he was just making things believable, but he needed to ease up on the twenty questions. “I gotta go, I don't want this light to give away my position. I'll call you in the morning. I'm gonna ditch this phone, too, in case they're tracking calls nearby.”

 

“God dammit, Swan, I knew something like this was going to happen. Shoulda never let you go alone,” he replied and Emma sighed heavily.

 

“What's done is done, I'm really okay, I'll call you in the morning and I'll continue to scope for another opening back in,” she said, hoping to buy herself a little more time with Hook the next day so they could lay out a plan of action.

“No, you come back to Wonderland as soon as you get the chance, you hear me?” he said. She should've known he'd never go for it. Hook looked at her curiously when Wonderland was mentioned. She motioned for a pen and paper and he slid her the clipboard. She wrote the words “home base” on it and Hook nodded in understanding.

 

“Alright, Chapelle. As soon as I can, roger that.” She was getting frustrated but she knew she couldn't get out of this so easily.

 

“Talk to you soon,” he said and promptly ended the call. Emma blew out a heavy breath.

 

“Well, love. Looks like we'd better get started,” Hook said after a moment, plucking the phone from her hand.

 

Jasmine still swirled in the air that only she could smell and Emma knew this was going to either go very well or very badly. It was a chance she was going to have to take.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! It's pretty much pedal to the metal from here on out, and I really hope you guys all like it! Sorry about the late update, I know the day is almost gone. I've been having internet issues lately and it's also the reason I haven't been able to respond to your lovely comments! I read them all, though, and I appreciate every one of you! Thank you as always to my fabulous beta @kmomof4 who did (and continues to do!) an amazing job with the @CSSNS and also find the time to beta this little project of mine :D and another HUGE thank you to @courtorderedcake who created the beautiful artwork for this fic. And thank you as well to everyone who reads this. It means so much to me that you guys are liking this so much! On with the show!

"What's with the stupid warning on the door? Going for the ominous pirate vibe?" Emma said as he led her back into the office area. Milah’s presence had been near constant in the hours since she came face to face with Hook, but she had been mostly quiet, to Emma’s elation. The scent of jasmine had far surpassed bothersome at this point. She was exhausted and she could feel blood matting her hair at the back of her head where Hook had knocked her out. Everything ached. She just wanted a hot shower and to sleep for a year. But she had a job to do.    
  
Hook chuckled. "It's actually Dante, love.  _ Divine Comedy _ ?" he told her and Emma colored in embarrassment. Of course he was intelligent, charming, and sex on legs. He swept his hooked arm before him in a bow, beckoning her into the room, his good arm clutching her bag (now refilled with her things) and the binder, clipboard, and weapons he'd laid out on the desk before. "It's what he wrote as inscribed on the gates of hell."   
  
"And what are you? The devil?" She snorted as she walked past him into the familiar room. A rueful expression crossed his face for a brief moment as he shut the door behind them with his hip, but he recovered himself quickly. Emma studied him pensively over the brief glimpse of emotion he'd just displayed.  _ Did he really think that lowly of himself?  _   
  
"I prefer dashing rapscallion," he replied with a cheeky grin and a salaciously raised eyebrow. She gave him a withering look and his grin dissolved into a flirty pout."Scoundrel?" he suggested instead. They entered the office, her face painted with a full on scowl now.

 

“Are you gonna tell me what I'm supposed to do for you or am I supposed to guess? ‘Cause I'm running out of time here.” She leaned up against the wall opposite where the shelves with the pictures were, putting herself as close as possible to the door. He smirked and laid out the objects he'd brought with them from the Fun Room (as Emma had snarkily dubbed it).

 

“You are the one who changed the subject, darling,” he reminded her before sitting in the chair behind the desk and reclining back in it slightly, a single brow quirked on his forehead. Emma rolled her eyes.

 

“Whatever, that’s not important. What’s important is if you need me to stay on Gold’s good side, I have,” she looked at the clock shaped like a ship’s wheel on the wall, “six hours and forty seven minutes to get whatever  _ that _ thing is to him.” She pointed to the object that had very quickly become the bane of her existence sitting near his left elbow. He didn’t look at it, only continued to watch her directly. His gaze was unsettling, like he could see her very thoughts. Strange for someone who refused to believe what was actually going on inside her head.

 

_ Give him a chance _ , Milah’s voice murmured suddenly. Emma set her mouth in a line. She  _ was not _ going to indulge the spirit in Killian’s presence anymore.

 

“You can have it,” Hook said with a simple shrug. There was a slight shake to Emma’s head as she looked at him in utter disbelief. She wouldn’t have been more confused if he would have said it in Chinese.

 

“Are you shitting me?” she nearly screeched, pushing off of the wall. “You- you- you knock me out, split my head open, actually, tie me up, threaten my life, all over me coming to get this thing and now you’re just going to hand it over? No questions asked?” 

 

He stroked a thumb over his jawline and rubbed it over the thoughtful pout on his lips. “Sorry?” he offered, not because he actually was, but because he knew it was what Emma wanted to hear. Or maybe because he knew it would further enrage her. “If you'd rather I keep it…” he moved his good hand to the device and began to slide it towards the drawers Emma had initially found it in. Her anger quickly dissolved into panic.

 

“No, no, no, let's not be so hasty…” she said, taking the bait and reaching out to still his hand without thinking. His blue eyes shot to hers at the contact and she couldn't look away, her breath stilling in her chest. 

 

“Well, if you insist,” he murmured, withdrawing his hand from underneath hers, drawing the knuckle of his forefinger down the middle of her palm and to the tip of her middle finger sending an electric spark up her arm. She pulled away, her muddled mind even more confused. One minute this guy was threatening her very existence, the next he was… well, whatever  _ that  _ just was.

 

He pulled the binder closer to him and propped it on his prosthetic arm, the hook of the device curving over the top edge of the plastic. He thumbed through a few pages and stopped on what he was looking for and turned it so Emma could see with a hard look on his face once more. 

 

A photograph stared up at her, a smiling Killian Jones and a beautiful brunette, wrapped up in each other's arms, eyes bright, faces carefree. The swell of jasmine scented perfume around her only confirmed it as she studied the picture intently. This was Milah. She had seen this face before, she remembered, and her eyes drifted to the shelves to the side of the desk. The charcoal sketch of the same face was in the exact spot she recalled it to be. She smiled softly and looked back to Hook, his face a mask of calm despite the pain raging in his heartbroken blue eyes. 

 

He tapped the photo with his hook, drawing her attention to the hand that was cupping Killian's jaw in the picture. There was a ring on that hand, nothing fancy, a simple silver band that twisted into a heart made of a Celtic knot.

 

“Since you know who Milah is, and her connection to me, I shouldn't have to explain much. She was wearing this ring when she-” he cut himself off with a firm set to his jaw before redirecting his words. “She always wore it. The bastard kept it, and I would like it back. He will keep it somewhere he has access to. He likes to use it as a tool of sorts. I tried meself to get it back once. It… did not go well,” he explained with a dark chuckle and his rap sheet immediately flitted through her mind. “You will get me this ring.” His eyes snapped up to hers. Emma studied the picture a moment longer. 

 

She shouldn't do this. She should just take the device when he let her go and give it to Gold and work on taking him down from the inside. She could do it so easily.  If Hook would have turned out to be literally anyone else, she probably would have. But, despite her resistance to it and their less than stellar first meeting, Emma had found herself invested in Killian Jones. What was more, it made her  _ actually _ contemplate doing this. More than contemplate. 

 

She wished now more than ever that Graham hadn't gotten hurt. Would any of this be happening if he'd been by her side? Would it have gone worse? A chill ran through her as she thought of Graham and herself lying side by side on a concrete floor somewhere, eyes open and unblinking. In a way, she was glad she'd gotten tangled in this by herself. 

 

Moving towards the shelf, Hook's eyes followed her as she studied the portrait of the woman whose presence she had come to accept as part of her every day. It was odd to think that someone she had developed such a strange relationship with was someone she'd never seen until now. Both she and Liam had been so adamant that Killian Jones was a good person, and she could see from her vantage point that all of his actions seemed to be fuelled by grief. Revenge was a powerful motivator, Emma knew. She raged and lashed out against everything and everyone when her parents died, and then again with Neal. If things had gone fractionally different in her life, she could be sitting where Jones was now. That thought alone, that she could bring him just a fragment of peace, made her want to at least try.

 

“So this ring,” she said, her eyes moving to the wood and glass case containing the flag next to Milah's picture. The dog tags laying over the top faced away from her, but she knew who they belonged to.

 

_ His mother's ring _ , Milah's voice whispered in her head and Emma frowned. She was  _ not _ going to react. Subconsciously, she touched the line on her neck left behind by Hook's blade from the last time she'd brought it up.

 

“Let's pretend there's a snowball's chance in hell that I can even get close to it, what next? You just forget about all of this?” she continued, distracting herself from the lingering presence in the room with them. 

 

It must have been the exhaustion setting in, or maybe side effects of the head wound she'd sustained. Because there was no other explanation for why she would do what she'd done next. Emma actively avoided touching anything that belonged to the dead, knowing what kind of trigger it was for her, and yet, inexplicably, she found herself reaching out to turn the dog tags over so she could read the inscription. 

 

The encounter slammed into her like a lightning bolt as soon as her finger grazed the first piece of metal, hurtling her through time and space inside her head. She felt like her ear drums were about to burst with the amount of ringing echoing through her skull until voices and images started filtering through. 

 

_ “We did everything we could, it was just her time. But she went peacefully,” a doctor told a stoic Liam (who couldn't have been more than 20 here) as he cradled his sobbing preteen brother in his arms. A woman with a bald head lay in what looked like tranquil slumber in a hospital bed nearby, except she was too still.  _

 

_ A flash of light. _

 

_ “I'm so proud of you, little brother.” Liam was older now, uniform clad and clapping his similarly dressed brother on the shoulder, eyes brimming with affection.  _

 

_ Another flash. _

 

_ “Liam, I realize that it’s a whole sodding mess, but I'm in love with her! How can I not get her away from that? She's in danger!” The passion in Killian's voice had Liam moving towards him and laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.  _

 

_ Flash. _

 

_ “Come on, Killian, she wouldn't have wanted this for you.  _ **_I_ ** _ don't want this for you, and I'm still breathing. You have to stop this.” Liam hoisted a very drunk Killian up and slung his little brother's arm over his shoulders. Killian nodded on a sob and allowed his brother to lead him away.  _

 

_ Flash. _

 

_ Red lights flashed all around, a klaxon blaring in the background. Men in uniform were running, shouting amongst the deafening sounds of explosions in the background.  _

 

_ “Somebody get a medic! God, no, Li, you're going to be okay, it's okay,” Killian reassured his brother as he attempted to drag his larger frame somewhere. Killian tripped over something and fell, taking the whole of his brother's weight into his lap. He quickly checked a spot on Liam's stomach that was saturated with blood and blanched, looking back up to Liam's own too pale face. Liam gave a feeble smile and shook his head. _

 

_ “It's alright, little brother. You're going to be just fine,” Liam said weakly. Killian shook his head roughly, tears beginning to escape his eyes. _

 

_ “Younger brother,” he joked and Liam laughed, which soon turned into a sputtering cough. He looked up at Killian, his face earnest and serious. _

 

_ “I'm going, Killian,” he said softly. _

 

_ “No!” the younger Jones protested on a choked sob. Liam smiled sadly at him. _

 

_ “I'm so proud of you, brother. I love you very much.” Liam’s breath and words were labored now.  _

 

_ “SOMEBODY HELP US!” Killian screamed one last desperate time, but when he looked back down to his brother, it was too late. Liam's eyes were still open, now unseeing, the spark behind the blue orbs already extinguished. Killian let out a low bellowing moan more anguished than Emma could ever remember hearing from another person. _

 

_ The scene melted into blackness this time and a familiar voice filled her head. _

 

_ “It's not too late. A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.” _

 

Emma was wrenched from the encounter by a vice like hand on her wrist. Killian's face swam into focus as the room settled back around her and she let out a shuddering breath. He looked thunderous.

 

“Do not touch anything in here,” he said, a dangerous undercurrent to his tone. 

 

“I'm sorry,” she whispered and he peeled his hand off of her wrist, his face still clouded with simmering ire.

 

“If you’re going to be sick, there’s a trash can in the corner over there,” he said gruffly, making his way to a small cabinet behind the desk. It was Emma’s turn to watch him move around the room as he pulled it open and removed a first aid kit. He turned around to find her standing in the same spot he left her in. Without waiting for her to make the move herself, he grasped her wrist again, the kit safely hanging from his hook by the handle, and sat her down in the chair on the other side of the desk from where he sat. He lay the plastic box he’d been carrying on the desk behind them and leaned against the surface.

 

Emma’s eyes widened as he reached out and skimmed his fingers along her cheek, not knowing what to expect. His fingers were warm, calloused from hard work, but not unpleasant against her skin as they curled around the nape of her neck and pulled her head forward. She held her breath as he moved the hair on the back of her head around, then blew it out sharply when he reached her wound just to the left of the crown of her head.

 

“What are you doing?” she asked as he reached back, still holding her hair aside with his hook, and rummaged through the kit for something. He didn’t answer, but she got one soon enough when a stream of cold liquid poured onto the wound, burning the site immediately. An expletive burst from her lips at the contact and she tensed, but didn’t pull away. “What is that?” she exclaimed, the pain fading to a dull throb as he dabbed a cloth over it.

 

“Isopropyl alcohol. Just cleaning the wound. Making sure you don’t need stitches. You don’t, by the way,” he said, running his fingers through her locks one last time before gently pushing her upright on her shoulder. She felt dizzy, and she wasn’t quite sure if it was from the heady perfume still lingering around her, the encounter with Liam, the head wound, or the proximity of the man sitting before her.

 

“Oh, so now you’re going to be a gentleman?” she scoffed, fighting the urge to touch the wound. She gathered her hair over her shoulder instead, letting her blood streaked curls rest on her chest, liquid soaking into her sweater from where it had run down her neck.

 

“It would be bad form to leave a lady in such a state, especially if it was my fault. And I’m always a gentleman,” he said with a wink. He put the supplies back where they belonged and came around to sit near her again. Emma fiddled with the chipped nail on her thumb, peeling it away from itself and flicking it mindlessly on the floor. There was a war going on inside her head, wondering whether or not to tell him that his brother made contact. Maybe she could better reach him with Liam than Milah. 

 

_ Tell him _ , Milah urged. Emma nodded slightly and cleared her throat, meeting Killian’s eyes. He cocked an eyebrow expectantly. 

 

“There's something I think you should know,” she began slowly, choosing her words carefully. Hook said nothing, only continuing to watch her impassively. She took his silence as permission to continue. “Those tags there, I knew who they belonged to before I touched them.” She saw him stiffen and she took a deep breath, holding his rapidly heating gaze. She was already this far in, so she continued. “I've seen Liam before as well. He and Milah both care about you very much and they've, uh, they kinda asked me to help you. Which is weird, given how we crossed paths, right? Well, I guess no weirder than telling you I talk to your brother and girlfriend, I guess.” She let a nervous huff of a laugh escape her lips, darting her eyes to her lap, and spoke again despite his continued silence. “When I touched the tags, I had sort of an encounter with him. He, uh,  _ Liam _ , he told me something that I think I'm supposed to tell you. I'm not really sure how this stuff goes so I'm just gonna say it,” she said and straightened her shoulders, bringing her eyes back up to meet his blazing blue. “He said that it's not too late. And that a man unwilling to fight for what he wants-"

 

“-deserves what he gets,” Hook finished for her, the words a low mutter. Emma’s heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest.  _ Did he believe her?  _ His eyes cleared for a moment, grief shining like the blade of a knife within them, yes, but a sliver of hope leaving them slightly wider as well. If he didn't believe her, he certainly wanted to. “Just who the bloody hell are you, Swan?” he murmured in wonderment. Emma didn't quite know how to answer that.

 

It didn't matter, though, because as quickly as the moment came, it was gone, his eyes lighting back up with pain fueled anger, and he stood abruptly, making Emma press herself back into the chair. She pushed too far; she shouldn't have said anything. He grabbed her bag between the pincers of his prosthetic, flipping it open and rifling through it with his good hand. He gave a sharp nod once he'd confirmed whatever he was looking for. He snatched the infinitely mysterious device from the desktop and shoved it roughly inside the satchel. Turning his fierce gaze back to her, he thrust the bag forward into her chest, her arms coming up to grasp it automatically.

 

“Get out,” he growled and Emma's mouth dropped open. “Take the tracker to Gold. It's been deactivated. Permanently.”

 

Emma’s head swam with questions. He was throwing her out, and that was confusing in and of itself, though not really with the exchange they had just had. Violence she had been prepared for. Rejection, she hadn't been.

 

“You're just going to push me out the front door? And what do you mean ‘deactivated’?” she asked and stood, still trying to process being steamrolled by Killian Jones’ rage as he marched back around the desk. 

 

“I owe you nothing more. You should be grateful for the opportunity to leave intact,” he said with a glower. “It's a shame I won't get to see the look on his face, though, when he realizes his love is gone in an instant,” he mused, nearly reveling in the knowledge that Gold would soon receive this news. Emma felt like she was going to be sick. Again. 

 

“Are you seriously sending me back to Gold with a useless device? He's going to fucking kill me!” Emma said, fear mixing with her own rage now. “Why would you even hang on to this thing? How am I supposed to get your ring back now?” she asked, a last desperate attempt to appeal to what he wanted.

 

“Forget the ring,” he seethed through gritted teeth. “I should have never asked. The time for making deals is done. Just as I am done… with you.” He brushed past her and opened the door, sweeping his good arm out and gesturing for her to leave. She gaped at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Leave now, while you still can,” he ground out and Emma's mouth snapped shut. She stalked past him, out the door and down the hall she'd first entered, avoiding eye contact with the door to the room she'd been tied up in. 

 

She would figure this out, she  _ had _ to. She wasn't giving up on Gold, maybe Jefferson could fix this tracker thing or something, but she found a strange resistance building up in the pit of her stomach at the thought of giving up on Killian Jones as well.

 

“Oh, and Swan?” His voice stopped her in her tracks and she turned. He pushed himself away from the door that he'd been holding open with his body weight, his hooked arm scraping down it to keep it in position.

 

“When you give that crocodile the device, tell him that Hook sends his regards.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okie dokie, here we go with chapter 12! We are over halfway to done with this fic and what I have planned, and lots of big things are still to come. Big things happen here as well with Gold, Jefferson, Hook, and we even introduce a new character! Thank you so so much to every single person reading this and commenting on this. I know I'm still behind in my replies but I was super super sick this week and I couldn't do much of anything. Things are back to normal now though, and I cannot wait to see what you all think! As always, huge thanks to @kmomof4 who is just amazing and the best beta and go give some love to @courtorderedcake for the AMAZING art she did for this little fic of mine! She deserves it! Hope you like the new chapter!

_ Go back. _

 

“No.”

 

_ He needs you. _

 

“Still no.”

 

_ Please. _

 

“I'm not sure how many different ways I can say no.”

 

It had been like this since Emma left the compound, Milah chattering incessantly in her ear for her to return to Hook. Her perfumed presence followed Emma as she'd walked through the front gate, several sets of eyes on her every movement (though no one made a move to stop her, leading her to believe Hook had tipped them all off to her presence) all the way through the drive and even now as she marched determinedly across the parking lot towards her motel room. He clearly didn't want her there, she had the device she'd come for, she couldn't help someone who refused to accept her help. 

 

The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. There was no way he could know how hard it was for her to let people in, but he didn’t have to be  _ such _ an ass about it. She had been almost entirely honest with him, only omitting the fact that she was actually a police officer, and he had wanted to believe her. Instead, he’d soundly rejected her, thrown her out on her ear, even, and she didn’t know how she could even reach him again. Maybe if she could get the ring, she could go back to the compound, but that was a huge risk to this whole operation. Gold was the priority.

 

She knew she would find Jefferson inside the room as soon as she opened it, but the way he basically attacked her in a hug surprised her. She returned it awkwardly, patting him lightly on the back.

 

“Give me one good reason I'm not on the phone with Regina right now pulling the plug on this,” he said pulling back and looking her over, eyes blowing wide at the sight of blood in her hair.

 

“I am fine,” she said, exaggeratedly wide, placating eyes holding his panicked grey. “The op is safe, I have the device. I was held up at the compound, but everything is fine.” Pulled from his grip and flung her hair over her shoulder. Bringing the shoulder bag around to the front, she lifted the flap and pulled the device free. Jefferson examined it, suspended in the air, but didn’t touch it, his eyes darting between the object and her face.

 

“What the hell happened in there?!” he nearly shouted and Emma reached up with her free hand and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why did you use our code names on that call? And whose phone was that? And where are your glasses? And how the fuck did you get away with that?” Jefferson’s voice was going higher and higher pitched with every frantic question that burst from him. Emma lay her free hand on his shoulder and circled her arm between them.

 

“Take a breath, in and out, there you go. I’ll tell you everything,” she said, darting her eyes to the floor and chewing on her lip anxiously. There was no way she could tell him  _ everything _ . He would pull the plug before she could say “held captive.” What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him...

 

“Okay,” he said after a moment, blowing out a long held breath and lacing his hands behind his neck. It felt like ninety percent of her time lately was spent explaining things, or talking her way out of things. Luckily, she was good at both.

 

“I didn’t get out of the compound free and clear. I was very nearly caught,” she lied and Jefferson continued to watch her quietly, his arm now resting on top of the other across his torso, one bent upwards at the elbow, hand pressed to his mouth. “I had to spend the night in a storage closet in the living quarters before it cleared out again and I could leave. I tried to sneak out once, but the guy that was sleeping in the room almost woke up, so I snagged a cell phone and went back in. I left mine in the car. That’s when I called you. I didn’t know if anyone was listening or not, so I played it safe. But, look, Jeff, I got it. Everything is fine!” She smiled at him and hoped it wasn’t as fake as it felt.

 

“Where are your glasses?” he asked quietly, his eyes boring into her like he didn’t believe a word she had just said and she struggled not to squirm under his judgement.

 

“I, uh, dropped them and stepped on them in the dark. They’re… well…” she fished in the bag again with the hand not holding the device and pulled the specs out, dangling them over one finger by the wires. Jefferson looked horrified and snatched them immediately out of her hands, looking over the damage. He looked back up at her again in disbelief.

 

“I’m sorry?” She winced as the apology came out as a question. He sputtered, red faced, trying to find words. “I may need another pair,” she joked lamely.

 

“This isn't James Bond, Emma, we don't just have spy gear laying around!” Jefferson flapped his arms wildly, the mangled plastic clacking against itself when he moved.

 

“Then give me the watch you had for Graham,” she suggested with a shrug, moving past him to finally set her things down on the farthest bed and shrug off her hoodie. Her hair was sticking to the now dry blood on her neck and she felt gross. She had less than four hours to shower and get back to Gold.

 

“It was stolen. In the robbery.” Jefferson admitted bluntly and Emma spun on her heel, eyes wide.

 

“Shit,” she muttered. “Have we heard anything back on Graham?” Jefferson’s eyes softened at her question and nodded.

 

“He’s okay. He’s going to be going home by the end of the week, but he is out on leave until he heals. He’s already begging for desk work. And asking about you,” he added with a smirk. Emma flushed scarlet.

 

“He’s just invested in this op. Tell him I’m really glad he’s okay, if you get the chance,” she replied with quiet sincerity. Jefferson nodded. “I really gotta shower and then I have to get back to Gold’s. I have a suspicion that something big is gonna go down soon. While I’m in there, see if there’s something you can learn about that thing.” She nodded to the abandoned device on the bedspread and hoped he would be able to tell it wasn’t working and get it up and running again. Jefferson muttered a reluctant sounding agreement as she shut the door to the bathroom.

 

A too short twenty minutes later, she was showered and changed, tender head throbbing less and less, so she counted that as a win. She tucked a knife in the side of her knee high boot, feeling safer with some kind of protection on her. Jefferson hadn’t been able to make any progress on the device, but she’d done her part. She got the device and that had to be enough. Milah had been oddly silent, but she supposed even ghosts had to give it a rest sometimes. Jefferson sent her on her way with a stern warning to keep her phone on her at all times and a pained look at sending her away with so little contact.

 

When she arrived at Gold’s building, Zelena was waiting for her.

 

“Cutting it a little close, aren’t we?” she hissed, dragging Emma up to Gold’s office by the arm where the man in question was sitting at his desk reading over some files with another man. He was young, little more than a boy it seemed, but he had a twisted smirk on his face as the two women entered and Emma recognized him instantly.

 

“Make sure you let me know when the shipment is ready. That will be all, Malcolm,” he dismissed the man and he nodded, eyeing Emma the whole way out of the room. Emma felt a chill run down her spine the minute the man’s name was confirmed. Peter Malcolm was well known in connection to Gold and his presence put Emma on edge. But he also reminded her why she was here. Marian’s face flickered through her thoughts briefly as the door shut sharply behind him.

 

“I heard you had quite a time at Hook’s compound,” he said to Emma passively, twirling his cane in his hand. Emma stiffened and her heart slammed a beat against her ribcage.  _ Play it cool, you don’t know what he knows,  _ she thought to herself and took a calming breath before speaking.

 

“Well, if it was supposed to be easy, I guess you would have had it already,” she said, retrieving the device from her bag and extending it to Gold. His eyes glittered and a slightly mad looking smile crept over his face.

 

“Indeed,” he replied quietly, flicking his wrist to beckon her closer. With her first step, Milah’s presence was back with a vengeance, the scent of her perfume spiking all around her and a low buzz beginning in the back of her mind. Emma grit her teeth and moved quickly towards the desk, ignoring it. She placed the device on the desk and slid it across to Gold’s waiting hand. He caught it deftly and immediately started pushing buttons. After a few moments, he tried again and Emma began to feel uneasy, his gaze rapidly darkening. Even Zelena was starting to fidget beside her. Emma was helpless to do anything but watch.

 

“Miss Swan, tell me what exactly is this that you’ve brought me.” Gold left the device where it lay and stood, making his way around the table.

 

“Is that the wrong device, or…” Emma said, feigning ignorance. Gold chuckled and before Emma knew what was happening, her head had snapped to the side with the force of the back of Gold’s hand.

 

“Playing dumb seems beneath you, Miss Swan.” He brushed his knuckles off on his suit jacket, Emma watching him out of the corner of her eye. She swiped her tongue over the corner of her mouth, tasting the metallic sting of blood there. Milah was screaming inside of her head.

 

_ GET OUT, GO BACK, GOLD, DANGER, KILLIAN, SAFE _

 

She ignored her again and stood to her full height, a scowl on her face. Zelena had slunk back towards the door, clearly putting separation between herself and Emma. She glared at her briefly as she avoided Emma’s eyes and then looked back to Gold.

 

“That device is useless. I have no room in this business for useless objects. Or useless people.” The click of a hammer drawing on a gun was the only warning Emma got before the cold metal barrel pressed beneath her chin. Her breath stilled in her chest and even Milah had gone silent. She could still smell the jasmine but the only sound she could hear was the heartbeat in her own ears.

 

“Mr. Gold,” she whispered out after a moment. “I didn’t know. I swear. I put myself on the line here, I got you the device, anything outside of that, I don’t ask questions. I’m trying to prove myself to you here,” she tried desperately to reason with him. 

 

“Now  _ that _ I believe,” he said with a smirk, digging the metal into her jaw once more before withdrawing it. Emma couldn’t help the shuddering breath that escaped her as he clicked the safety back on the device and put it back in his waistband. “You will make this up to me,” he said, shaking his finger as he walked back around the desk. “Zelena has your contact information. I will reach out soon with further instruction. Don’t stray too far, now, dearie.” A little giggle punctuated the end of his sentence and it was clear she was being dismissed.

 

Emma practically ran from the building like it was on fire, not caring whether or not Zelena was walking with her or not. She gulped in deep breaths of fresh air as she burst through the doors to the building, the cold trickle of fear still trickling down her spine. Bile rose up in her throat and she ran to the side of the building, promptly emptying the contents of her stomach onto the pavement. She coughed and sputtered until she was dry heaving and there was nothing left. She drew a shaky hand up to her mouth and wiped it on the sleeve of the flannel she wore over her tank top, then wiped the tears that had escaped down her face with the other. 

 

“That was… well, bloody disgustin’, love.”

 

Emma whipped around at the new voice behind her. A man, average height, sandy brown crew cut hair, and an expression that mirrored his words leaned up against the wall in the alleyway near by. Without another thought, she pulled the knife she had stuffed in her boot before leaving the motel earlier out and brandished it at the man. He put his hands up and his eyebrows shot up his forehead.

 

“Easy there, lass. I come in peace,” he held up two fingers, mimicking an alien voice and throwing off the thick British accent he spoke with.

 

“Not if you’re skulking around this place, you don’t,” she snarled. “Just who the hell are you?” 

 

“I’m skulking,” he bobbed his head with a roll of his eyes, “‘cause this place ain’t exactly the friendliest to my sort. Name’s Will. Scarlett, if ya need that, too. And you’re Emma Swan.” Emma was on him in an instant, pressing him against the brick wall and holding the knife against his ribs. “Careful, that there’s sharp and I prefer me lungs without holes in ‘em.” He smirked cheekily, hands still suspended in midair. “‘Ceptin’ o’course the ones that are supposed to be there,” he said with a wink.

 

“That all depends on what the fuck you want from me,” she said, hyper focused on every move he made.

 

“So much fire,” he said and blew out a breath. The smell of clove and mint washed over her, mixing with the constant jasmine clinging to her senses. “No wonder Hook’s taken a likin’ to ya.” Emma blinked at him and she remembered his name from the research Jefferson had done into Hook. 

 

“What do you want? What does  _ he _ want?” she said, her breath catching on the question. Jasmine swirled around her and Milah began whispering in her head again.

 

_ Go back, _ she urged again gently.

 

“He says that you’re working for Gold. He’s worried about your safety, and he regrets throwin’ ya out on yer arse like he did. He wants to meet with ya. He wants to help,” he explained. Emma studied the man for any trace of a lie. She couldn’t see one at all. 

 

Emma wasn’t sure what to believe. The last twenty four hours had taken its toll on her. She hadn’t slept, she’d been assaulted, threatened more times than she could count. The only sleep she had gotten was when she was unconscious. She shouldn’t give a damn about Hook. He had thrown her in crocodile infested waters knowingly and now she had to work even harder to get back on Gold’s good side. Sure, she had gone there with less than noble intentions, but she was honest with him, she told him things about her that she had told no one, not even Ruby. And he believed her. She saw it on his face. She knew she sounded crazy, but it was the truth. 

 

And then there was this…  _ connection _ she had to him. Liam and Milah had been so adamant that he was a good person, and she had believed in him. She could see it in his eyes that his actions had been born of heartache. She understood, and she would be lying if she didn’t feel the loss acutely the second she stepped out of the building, but she had just chalked it up to Milah’s insistence for her to return. She knew it wasn’t  _ just _ that. Somewhere along the line, Emma had become attached to Killian Jones.

 

_ Go back _ , Milah whispered again.

 

Emma loosened her grip on Will Scarlett and stepped back away from him, withdrawing her knife but keeping it in her hand.

 

“Okay,” she said, to Will and to Milah. “Let’s go.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have been reliably informed that I an cruel and evil for this chapter sooooooo sorry? Lol. Some very big shifts happen here, but I won't say much more because I don't want to give too much away for this chapter or the chapters this affects in the future. You'll have to read and see ;) An especially large thank you this week to @kmomof4 who was very patient and efficient with this chapter, which made it possible for this to be posted on time (I had a really rough week lol) and of course thank you to @courtorderedcake because she's amazing, this art is amazing, and I'm just in awe of her period. *insert Wayne and Garth WE'RE NOT WORTHY bowing here* lol. Y'all are fabulous for all the reviews and favorites and reblogs and even just for reading this. I appreciate each and every one of you. Alrighty, on with the show, I hope you guys like it!

Despite her better judgement, and the severity of the situation, Emma found herself managing Will Scarlett’s presence quite tolerantly. He reminded her of an annoying little brother, eating her sunflower seeds and spitting them all over himself, fiddling with her radio, trying to go through her console and glove box, making her thankful she’d locked the latter. It held her badge and gun in case of emergency. 

 

“Take another left over here.” He pointed to an upcoming side street, happily bobbing his head to the music and chomping on another handful of seeds. Emma wrinkled her nose as he noisily slobbered shells into an empty convenience store cup.

 

“Can you not do that? It’s distracting. And disgusting,” she said, turning down the street he’d pointed out. She was glad she'd called Jefferson before they left and let him know she was waiting on Gold because this journey was taking much longer than she thought it would.

 

“Aw. Have I offended the princess’s delicate sensibilities?” he asked, grinning and still chewing on the seeds in his mouth. “Turn right up here.” 

 

“Where are you even taking me?” Emma asked, complying with his instruction once more. 

 

“Don’t trust me, love? I thought I had an honest face,” he grinned, a black bit of seed lodged in between his second and third upper teeth.  Emma rolled her eyes, and tightened her grip along the steering wheel. Much as she tolerated Will Scarlett, he was still a criminal leading her to a dangerous man in an unknown location. That, and he was  _ infuriating _ .

 

“Can’t you just give a single straight answer?” she grumbled and suddenly, she recognized their surroundings. The smell of the sea permeated the vehicle, which was a welcomed break from the floral torture she’d been under for the last day solid, and she took a deep breath. “The docks, huh? I still have my knife if you’re trying to dump a body.” Will snorted.

 

“Hook would have more than me balls for somethin’ like that. And it’s broad daylight, if ya haven’t noticed,” he pointed out, motioning around them as the car came to a stop. “Not exactly prime conditions for corpse dumpin’.” With a final grin and a waggle of his ridiculous eyebrows, he opened the door and slipped from the vehicle like a cat. Emma was slower to respond, taking in her surroundings and a deep breath as she unbuckled her seatbelt. She exhaled slowly, trying to get her bearings, when her breath cut off short at the sight waiting for her. 

 

Will was making his way towards a small pier where a figure stood staring out over the water. She knew even from behind that it was Killian Jones. His slightly overlong hair moved with the seaspray, his good hand tucked into the pocket of his leather jacket. His weight was supported on one leg, giving him a slight lean, his hook swinging freely at his side. It was exactly like the very first vision Milah had shown her of him. This must be something he did often, and she wondered briefly why he would summon her to a place that obviously meant a lot to him. Will approached him, saying something that she couldn’t hear, and Hook turned to acknowledge the man before setting his sights on her. He said something back, slipping his hand from his pocket and clapping Will on the shoulder but keeping his gaze firmly locked on hers. Shaking her hands out over her lap, she reached for the door handle and got out.

 

She leaned against the open door as he walked over to her, expression near unreadable, but somehow lighter than anything she’d seen on his face before. As he got closer, his eyes seemed to hold a note of apology and relief, which surprised her. He did throw her out, after all, dismissing her admissions and fears immediately. She couldn’t say without a second thought, because, well, here she was.

 

“Have you met with Gold yet?” he asked, coming to a stop just on the other side of the barrier the door provided. She raised an eyebrow at that.

 

“Good to see you again, too. And, yeah, I did,” she said, motioning to the bruise forming on her cheek and the split in her lip where the man in question had struck her. The anger that she was used to seeing in Hook’s eyes flashed there once again and he clenched his jaw making her blink at him in bewilderment. “I’m still in one piece, though, so I mean, it could be worse,” she mumbled, unsure of why she felt the need to reassure him of her well being. 

 

“Aye. It could. Maybe you are a fool after all, Swan,” he said tersely, as if he were scolding a child. This ignited the rage in her belly all over again.

 

“Okay,” she said, slapping her hands on the top of her door. “Nice to see you again. I’m leaving.” She made to get back in the driver’s seat.

 

“No, no, wait, love, wait,” he rushed forward, hand and prosthetic held up to stop her. She paused, her lips pursed into a tight line.

 

_ Just listen _ , Milah murmured softly and Emma squeezed her eyes shut at the sound, shaking her head lightly. She blinked them open and scanned the area again, finding Will still patiently waiting on the dock he'd approached Hook on, clearly giving them space. She turned her attention back to Hook, his eyes searching her features as if trying to read her.

 

“I know you're upset with me,” he began and Emma snorted.

 

“Understatement,” she scoffed and a surge of jasmine around her made her bite her tongue against further barbs. The last thing she needed was for Milah and Hook to be battling for her attention. 

 

“I know, and I called you here because perhaps I was a little hasty in enforcing your departure.” He nearly winced at the words, looking down and fiddling with his prosthetic with his good hand, and Emma found herself mildly amused by his discomfort. Apology did not seem to be his strong suit.

 

“So you regret missing an opportunity to recover your mother's ring,” she replied, irritation overriding her amusement. “Anything else?” 

 

His eyes snapped up to hers with a force that almost had her stumbling backwards, a curious intensity to them that almost made the blue brighter and darker at the same time.

 

“I never told you that was my mother's ring,” he said, his tone low and even. Emma almost swallowed her tongue, fully expecting him to lash out again. 

 

“I- I- uh- you didn't? I'm sure you did because, I mean, how else would I know that?” she tittered nervously, scooting closer to the interior of the car in order to make a quick escape if needed. 

 

Silence descended between them and his eyes settled into a saddened expression, his brow furrowing slightly.

 

“No, love, I didn't. I haven't spoken of my mother in quite a long time. And the last people I spoke about her with are long gone.” He shifted towards her carefully, his movements slow and obvious, as if she was a wild cornered animal. She felt like one, so it was appropriate.

 

“Why am I here, Hook?” she said in a cracked voice, much higher than she would have liked it to be. He was standing practically up against the door now, his expression more sincere than anything she'd seen from him yet. There was a glimmer of vulnerability in the depths of his pupils that she was sure he didn't let free often and her heart clenched in her chest at the thought of him letting that side open to  _ her _ . In this moment, she knew she was dealing with Killian Jones, not Hook.

 

“I want to help you,” he said with a steady certainty. “Gold is… well, you're in over your head. I'd like to help get you out of this predicament.”

 

“I can take care of myself,” she ground out. “I'm not a damsel in distress.”

 

“Of that I have no doubt, Swan,” he said, the mirth returning to his voice. He smirked and rocked back on his heels with a single ridiculously arched eyebrow. “But it would be bad form to leave a lady in distress when I have the power to ease her troubles.” He chuckled a little. “That's something Liam would have said. He was a navy man. Believed in all things done in ‘good form’.” He made air quotes with his hand and hook, eyes glazing in memory, and Emma couldn't help but soften as he spoke of his brother. His gaze came up to meet hers again, raw and honest. “But you already knew that, didn't you?”

 

Emma's breath caught in her throat as she gauged his expression. Strangely, she found no judgment or malice there this time. Just something that looked an awful lot like hope. She didn't trust her voice, she she offered him a simple wide eyed nod. He smiled, a soft little thing that made him look years younger and infinitely more handsome. Emma blinked a few times against that thought and drew her brows together in confusion. She had a job to do, she reminded herself. No time to be distracted by handsome criminals. 

 

But distracted she was when his good hand came unexpectedly to rest on top of hers, turning it to grasp her fingers, his skin warm and callused on hers. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch and she stared at him, trying to get a read on what was going on.

 

“I don't know who you are, Emma Swan, or what's happening here, but I think I want to,” he said earnestly and Emma's heartbeat went from moderately fast to breakneck speed, her grip involuntarily tightening on his hand. He smirked at the movement, his tongue coming out to trace over his lips before lifting her fingers to them and placing a kiss on the back of her hand and releasing it easily. Emma didn't know what to do, what to say. 

 

A shrill ringing sound coming from the console inside her car broke the tension and she darted her eyes to the interior.

 

“I better…” she trailed off, pointing awkwardly into the vehicle before slipping into it and retrieving the phone. 

 

The words UNKNOWN NUMBER flashed across her screen. Emma felt a chill run through her and she fought not to shiver, knowing she was still under Hook's scrutiny. 

 

“Swan,” she answered, a little proud of how businesslike and even her tone was.

 

“Neverland Shipping Warehouse,” Gold's voice said through the line, clipped and straight to the point. Emma was surprised to hear him on the line, rather than Zelena or another of his goons. “I've sent the address to your phone. There is a crate inside that I need you to get into. It is labelled with a large red X. You have four hours. Do not disappoint me again,” he said coldly and hung up before she could say another word. 

 

_ DANGEROUS _ , Milah's voice shrieked out in her head, and Emma frowned deeply, ignoring her and looking down to the phone to confirm she received the information. Once she had, she looked up to see Killian Jones watching her with quiet concern, his hand on her still open door.

 

“Gold's people, I presume?” he said, his eyes darkening again.

 

“Ah, the man himself, actually,” she said and Killian looked so surprised it bordered on alarm. “I have to go. Duty calls.” She gave him an apologetic look, then glanced towards the docks to see Will Scarlett heading back in their direction. 

 

She reached for her door, fully intending on making her escape (and making Scarlett Hook's problem), but she was halted by Hook's hand pulling the door gently, but firmly back to him. A puzzled look crossed her face and she jerked her head up to meet Hook's gaze.

 

“This isn't right, love. I don't think it's wise that you go,” he said, caution painted in every word. 

 

_ STAY, DANGER,  _ Milah repeated.

 

Emma scoffed and rolled her eyes at the both of them, pulling the door back to her and out of his grip, shutting it with only a  _ little _ more force than strictly necessary. She rolled her window down to about halfway and smiled up at him, his face still a mask of stony concern.

 

“Swan, you're playing with fire here,” he cautioned again.

 

“Wouldn't be the first time I've gotten burned.” She shrugged and started her little yellow bug, the engine puttering to life. “I'll be in touch.”

 

As she pulled away with one last reassuring smile, she saw Hook motion sharply for Will Scarlett to get in the black SUV that was parked by a small building. He would get over it. She had to focus on Gold. Then she could worry about him.

 

The drive was short, thankfully for her nerves. She shot Jefferson a quick text to update him on her location and the plan, and he confirmed it with the usual caution to be safe that made her roll her eyes again. She had more people seemingly concerned for her well being now than she'd had in her whole life. 

 

When she pulled up to the abandoned looking metal building that matched the address Gold had sent her, she was pretty damn sure that Hook and Gold must certainly have the monopoly on the real estate market for places that looked like they'd be a good spot to hide a body.  The building looked like it hadn't been used in at least a decade. It was the last one standing on the block that was surrounded by dilapidated, crumbling structures, buildings that were shadows of their former selves and that should have been set for demolition years ago. A general unease set into the pit of her belly. 

 

_ Dangerous,  _ Milah murmured in her head again, the sound a feeble plea. Emma supposed she was getting as tired of saying it as she was hearing it. She ground her teeth together. She knew it was dangerous. She had no other choice.

 

She took a deep breath and pulled her door open, her senses on high alert and the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. The jasmine scent surrounded her still as she moved towards the warehouse, strangely giving Emma comfort that she wasn't alone, even though Milah was adamantly unsupportive of this endeavor.  She scanned the area, making sure no one was watching as she made her way to the door and tried the handle.

 

Much to her surprise, it wasn't even locked. The door was heavy though and it took several pulls before the rusty old thing swung open on a loud groan that had Emma's heart dropping to her stomach. She quickly looked around as she darted inside, making sure the noise hadn't given her away. She still saw no one in the vicinity and she wondered briefly what was so important and difficult to obtain at this location. She shrugged it off. If this was the way to get back into Gold's good graces, so be it.

 

The room she found herself in was large and mostly empty, a few empty crates and pieces of abandoned, unstable furniture littering the area. The door shut heavily behind her, making her wince once more. It was quiet. Almost too quiet. But none of that mattered when she spied her prize.

 

A wooden box sat in the center of the room, not overly large in size, but conspicuous all the same as it looked like it had been recently placed there. The large, spray painted red X on the outside of the box told her she was in the right place.

 

_ Emma, leave now, danger _ , Milah said firmly, her accented voice full of worry, making Emma pause in her tracks. The spirit had never called her by name before and a chill went down her spine. 

 

“I can't, Milah, I have to see this through,” she said, her tone acknowledging the regret she felt in the pit of her stomach. 

 

As she approached the box, one of the corners appeared to be wedged up, giving Emma her in. This was turning out to be far smoother than she thought it would be, which put her even more on alert, especially with the steady warnings her ghostly companion had been offering (not to mention how the  _ last _ time something was going her way went). She screwed her courage to the sticking place and put her gloved hands on the lid, prying it open. The box was filled with styrofoam peanuts, a paper that looked like a packing slip at first glance sitting on top. She picked it up and unfolded it to read and her blood immediately froze in her veins.

 

_ One is not useless if they can be used as an example, dearie. _

 

It was then she noticed the red wire hanging limply from the back end of the lid, most likely separated from whatever it was connected to when she lifted the wooden top. Frantically she shoved the packing peanuts out of the way until she laid her eyes on the something she definitely hadn't been prepared to see. 

 

Several gray blocks of a clay like substance sat surrounding a clock face, a motherboard and wires connecting them all together wedged underneath. She looked at the digital numbers in the center and her adrenaline spiked immediately.

 

_ 00:12 _

 

_ 00:11 _

 

_ 00:10  _

 

_ 00:09 _

 

_ EMMA RUN, _ Milah screamed out in her head and she didn't have to be told twice. The paper fluttered to the floor and she scrambled to turn around, her feet carrying her as fast as they could back to the door she came through. The heavy metal door was even harder to open from the inside. She struggled, pulling and yanking on the handle so hard she was almost afraid she was going to pull it off. In one last effort, Emma planted her foot against the door frame and tugged as hard as she could, the groan from the hinges giving way like music to her ears. She stumbled backwards with the force of opening it but quickly righted herself and ran through the door to freedom. 

 

A deafening boom rang out behind her the instant her feet hit the packed dirt outside the door, heat and debris assaulting her back, and then she was falling. She could hear nothing except a high pitched ringing in her ears as her world turned on its axis. Her body rolled midair with the force of the explosion, the sky coming into view above her, flames licking at her peripheries, and her head hit the ground with a crack she couldn't hear in the same spot she had been struck before. She felt immediately ill, her vision blackening at the edges. 

 

Through her haze, she registered two sets of legs running in her direction, but she couldn't see who they belonged to through her rapidly darkening sight. 

 

She must have been going crazy after all,  because the last thing she thought she saw before losing consciousness completely was the profile of her mother's face, the song that had comforted her for years echoing over the ringing in her head.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are at chapter 14! I cannot believe how far we are already! I have about 5-6 more chapters planned for this fic, but we will see how it goes lol. This is a really pivotal chapter not only for Hook, but for the development of things moving forward, in a few ways. As always, THANK YOU to every single person who reads, reviews, reblogs, or even looks this piece's way. I appreciate all of you more than you know! A very special thank you to @kmomof4 (it's her birthday today!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY KRYSTAL!!!!) who is the best beta I could have ever asked for this fic, and thank you thank you thank you to @courtorderedcake for the gorgeous art banner she put together for this piece. 14 chapters in and it still blows me away every single time. Hope you guys like the new chapter!

The world was black and Emma was blind.

 

“ _ Emma. _ ”

 

A voice rang out in the darkness. She knew that voice.

 

“ _ Emma, it's time to wake up, lass. _ ”

 

Wake up. Yes, that was a good idea. Maybe she couldn't see because her eyes were closed.

 

“ _Killian_ _is waiting for you._ ”

 

Killian? Oh, yes. Hook. But why was he waiting for her? Right. Will Scarlett. At Gold’s place.

 

“ _ Wake up, Emma _ .”

 

No, that wasn't right. She just saw him at the docks, didn’t she? And then the call from Gold…

 

“ _ Lass. Come back _ .”

 

A ringing started in her ears. It grew louder and louder until she thought her eardrums might burst.

 

“ _ Wake up _ .”

 

A face flickered in her vision, the first thing she'd been able to see, curly copper hair, soft blue eyes, stern, handsome features. The ringing drowned out everything but his voice. She tried to call out to him, his name passing her lips on reflex, but she couldn't even hear her own voice.

 

“ _ Wake up. _ ”

 

“LIAM!” 

 

Emma bolted upright, drenched in sweat and her heart pounding so hard she feared it might break a rib. Her hand pressed to the skin above it, almost as if to hold it in her chest.

 

“Easy, Swan, easy.” She heard someone say and her head snapped to the side. Her eyes connected to Killian's like a magnet to metal.

 

Then the consequences of her sudden movements caught up with her. 

 

Her shoulder and hip felt like they were on fire and Killian crouched beside her was the only thing in her line of sight that was in focus. She was definitely going to be sick. She must have paled or turned green or some other indicator that the very little she had eaten in the last day was about to make a reappearance because in the moment her body decided to heave, a small plastic trash can was shoved under her face.

 

“Oh, God,” Emma groaned, her voice sounding hollow bouncing from the sides of the receptacle. She spit into the container and lifted her head.  Once he was sure she was spent, Killian removed the bin and stowed it beside the raggedy couch she was on. 

 

“Back in the Fun Room, I see,” she said as her surroundings became a little clearer, recognizing the couch, the metal desk with the hole in it, and that  _ fucking beam _ . The throbbing in her head was no less, though, and she realized the ringing in her ears, while not as loud as before, was definitely going to be there for awhile.

 

“I wasn't sure if I'd have to tie you back up or not,” Hook replied with a nonchalant shrug as he stood and Emma's head screamed in protest as she jerked her gaze to his again, a chill running down her spine. “You hit your head quite a bit harder this time, though, so I thought I might take my chances.” Killian walked away back towards the desk and Emma's hand went up automatically to find the wound on the crown of her head had reopened and there was freshly dried blood in her hair again. She winced and hissed as her fingertips grazed the area, her eyes looking to where Hook was now, leaning against the desk with his arms folded across his broad chest. 

 

As before, he had a few things laid out on the surface next to him, that ridiculous knife, a binder, black this time, and something else that made her heart stop. She felt all the blood drain from her face and her arm lowered slowly from where it had been inspecting her injury. 

 

A gun sat well away from the rest of the objects, like it was on display, which it probably was, considering it was  _ her _ gun, her badge propped neatly against it, along with her keys.

 

“I do believe we should have a chat, Detective Nolan.”

 

Emma swallowed hard, feeling the action sharply in her temples, and a rush of jasmine billowed around her, almost making her feel like Milah was trying to protect her. Of course Milah was here still. 

 

“What do you want me to say, Hook?” Emma's voice was barely audible, the tightness in her throat strangling the words as they came out.

 

“Let's try the truth this time, shall we?” His voice was dark and calm, like the sea before a storm, a malevolent gleam in his darkened blue eyes.

 

“Alright,” she said and turned to place her feet flat on the floor. She grimaced at the pain flowing through her body as she moved. 

 

“Alright. So, you're a police officer.” It wasn't a question.

 

“I am. A detective in missing persons, to be specific.”

 

“And Gold?”

 

“I'm undercover right now investigating a string of missing women and at least one body that we've been able to link back circumstantially to him,” she told him honestly. Honesty was probably going to be the only chance she had at leaving here intact.

 

“And that's how you found me and how you know so much about me and my life, your research into Gold,” he prompted.

 

“No, the only thing that turned up when I searched your name that connected you to Gold was a slew of charges you were arrested for back in 2010 when you were fresh off the boat. Imagine my surprise when you turned out to be the mysterious ‘Hook’ as well.” She leaned forward, the bruised muscles in her shoulder and hip sparking with pain at the motion as she settled her forearms on her thighs.

 

“So my name and my more colorful moniker are not yet synonymous. Good to know. How did you learn of me before Gold, then? My name, that is. What prompted you to search for me?” His words were genuinely curious, as if he were solving an equation. 

 

“Ah,” she said, clearing the tightness from her throat again. “That was Milah. And Liam. The medium part was true. I never expected to find you in the middle of all this.”

 

“Oh, not this bit again,” Killian scoffed. 

 

Emma felt her temper rise up in her chest.   
  
"You know what, Hook?” she snapped, struggling not to wince as she pushed herself to standing. “I don't give a shit if you believe me or not anymore."   
  
"How can I believe  _ anything _ you say?!” He stormed towards her, his own anger slipping through the cracks of his carefully constructed facade. “Please, enlighten me, love. What brilliant bit of wisdom have the fates imparted upon you just now? Hmm?"

 

_ Stubborn arse _ , Milah said irritably. Emma snorted a laugh.   
  
"I don't know about the fates, but Milah thinks you're a stubborn ass."   
  
Killian did an almost comical double take.    
  
_ Idiot _ , the disembodied voice added.   
  
"And an idiot," Emma repeated with a smug smirk.   
  
"I am  _ not _ stubborn,  _ nor _ an idiot," he protested, sounding much like a petulant child, to Emma's great amusement.   
  
_ See _ .   
  
"She thinks you're proving her point," Emma replied, raising an eyebrow. "I kind of agree."   
  
"Oh, just bloody perfect. Gang up on me with a figment of your imagination." Hook ran his hand through his hair, tugging at the ends, frustrated.   
  
_ Listen, agrà _ , Milah murmured.   
  
"She wants you to listen to me, and she said that agrà word again." Emma folded her arms over her chest and stood her ground.   
  
"How the fuck did you learn that word?" he growled, stepping towards her and into her space. His chest almost brushed hers with every deep breath he took, and she could practically feel the tension vibrating off of him.   
  
"Milah," she replied with a nod, slowly enunciating the syllables and widening her eyes exaggeratedly. 

 

He held her gaze, silence extending between the two of them, like he was willing her to say something different. Something he could accept as the truth. He let out a growl of irritation when she didn’t budge, turning and veritably stomping away from her.   
  
"Alright, let's play this game, then, Swan. Tell me something only she would know,” he snapped, leaning against the desk again and fiddling with his hook, rubbing the prosthetic like it was bothering him just as much as this whole discussion was, an action that did not go unnoticed by Emma. This exchange was going just as she expected it would have with anyone she revealed herself to, but it also still stung, no matter how she'd prepared for something like this her entire life.   
  
"You mean besides the ring thing and the nickname?" she pointed out.   
  
Killian glared.   
  
_ Cock and bull _ , Milah interrupted the rising hostility between the two.   
  
Emma flushed red at Milah's words and Killian visibly took notice of her change in demeanor. She knew it meant something different, but she couldn't help wanting to curl up in a ball and die at the thought of saying  _ that word _ to  _ this man _ , especially with the strain in the air already. She felt like a 15 year old girl.   
  
"What is it now?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and drawing her attention away from her own self loathing and embarrassment.   
  
"Uh, cock and bull," Emma muttered, reddening further. Killian's other brow swiiftly made the climb up his forehead to join the first, his mouth dropping open slightly in sheer shock. He snapped it closed and narrowed his eyes, studying her.   
  
"Are you... embarrassed, Swan? You know it doesn't mean..." he gestured in front of him and she made a noise of exasperation.   
  
"I know, jackass," she snapped. "Get your mind out of the gutter."   
  
"Seems you had already beaten me to the gutter on that one, love," he teased, like he couldn't resist.   
  
"Whatever. Does it ring a bell or not?"   
  
He paused.   
  
"Aye."   
  
"So you believe me."   
  
"No."   
  
_ Stubborn mule pig headed arse. _   
  
Emma laughed out loud, clapping a hand over her mouth immediately against the sound as pain exploded through her tender head, and Killian raised an eyebrow in question. Emma rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to stamp her foot. Apparently she was pulling out all the stops on the Teenage Angst Express today. She dropped her hand carefully, as not to jar her injured shoulder further before speaking again.   
  
"She's making a colorful point. About you."    
  
"Enough of this!" he roared but this time, Emma wasn't afraid. She was getting madder herself, in fact.   
  
"She says you're stubborn, again. A mule. A pig headed arse," she said, ignoring him and affecting a sarcastic British accent for the last bit. He gave her a dangerous glower and came to stand toe to toe with her once more, his hand balled into a white knuckled fist at his side, clearly trying to intimidate her. 

 

“So I should just believe you because you knew about some pub I was going to open with Milah, then?” he growled.

 

“You should believe me because I'm telling you the truth! Think about it, Hook. How else would I know about these things?” Emma stared him down, not giving an inch. 

 

His wild blue eyes should have frightened her, and they probably would have a few days ago. But now, she just felt understanding for him. She couldn't explain it, but she couldn't bring herself to be afraid. Her temper didn't help, her own anger dimming all other emotions in her brain.   
  
Seconds ticked by, the muscle twitching in his jaw keeping time as Emma's eyes bored into his.    
  
"Bah," he growled and turned away from her, pacing back to the metal desk, hand clenching and releasing, reminding Emma very much of an angry panther. It was then that Emma knew that he really wasn't going to hurt her.   
  
_ Tell her the truth, agrà _ .   
  
Emma froze at Milah's urging.   
  
"The truth about what, Milah?" she answered out loud, her eyes glued to Killian and he stiffened and spun back around on his heel.    
  
"What is she saying?" he asked with genuine curiosity and a sliver of unease, seemingly at the question itself.

 

“Oh,  _ now _ you believe me,” Emma huffed in exasperation. Killian looked like he was going to refute the notion again but snapped his mouth shut and pursed his lips against the words, urging her to continue with just his eyes. Stubborn. “She wants you to tell  _ me _ the truth.”

 

_ About Gold _ , Milah added.

 

“About Gold,” Emma repeated, her senses on full alert now. “What are you not telling me?”

 

Killian's jaw ticked again, and he didn't speak.

 

“Truth and trust run both ways, Killian,” she said and he inhaled sharply, his eyes searing into hers. 

 

“It's a day for the names of the dead, it seems,” he said darkly. Emma blinked at that. 

 

“That's your name, isn't it?” she said, flustered for words. Killian chuckled, a disparaged sound.

 

“That man is gone. He died with Milah and Liam,” he spat, tracing his finger along the edge of his prosthetic. “Hook is what has risen from the ashes.”

 

“God, you are so dramatic,” Emma laughed out a reply. Hook looked offended, surprised, and even slightly impressed in one fell swoop. 

 

_ Always dramatic _ , Milah added and Emma snorted again.

 

“Milah says you've always been this way,” she filled him in.

 

“Oh, yes, as she's one to talk. She once screamed the bloody house down over a spider,” he shot back and Emma almost fell over at the acknowledgement of Milah's presence. 

 

Jasmine swirled around her, a happy little flush of fragrance.

 

_ Big spider. Deadly. He went to hospital for a splinter.  _

 

“You went to the hospital for a splinter?” Emma raised an eyebrow and the pointed tips of Killian's ears flushed pink, in embarrassment this time, rather than rage. His hand came up to scratch behind his ear, giving him away completely. 

 

“My foot went through a rotted board on the dock! I was impaled by a half the bloody plank!” he defended. 

 

_ Splinter,  _ Milah reaffirmed and Emma had had enough.

 

“Can we have this little lovers spat another time?” Emma near shouted, her eyes screwing shut against the throbbing in her temples and crown of her head. “What are you not telling me about Gold?”

 

“Why did you scream my brother’s name when you woke up?” he asked, refusing to answer her.

 

“Because I had an encounter with him while I was unconscious. He visits my dreams a lot. Now,  _ tell me about Gold _ ,” she demanded, trying to pull the focus where it was important.

 

“Is Liam here now as well?”

 

“No. Are you going to tell me about Gold?”

 

“I didn’t intend to, no.”

 

“Then I'm fucking leaving. I'm not wasting any more of my time here.” Emma marched over to the desk, intent on retrieving her gun and badge, but she should have known he was going to stop her. His hand closed around her bicep a moment later. 

 

“Wait just a second.” The muscles of his jaw worked beneath the skin and scruff there, as if he were trying to work out the words to say.

 

“I don't have a second. I have to call my handler and sort this whole mess out. I don't have time to play games with you. I told you the truth, you don't believe me, that's  _ your _ problem,” she snapped and tried to move around him again but his grip tightened, holding her in place. 

 

“I've already texted him from your phone. Chapelle, right?” he replied. Emma's heart dipped into her stomach. “I spoke as you, let him know you were safe and that you'd call when the job was done.”

 

“Why?” She couldn't tell if the breathless quality of her voice was from fear or awe. 

 

“Because we needed to talk.” He shrugged.

 

“And yet all you've done is argue with me, and Milah  _ through _ me, and we've gotten exactly nowhere.” She yanked her arm from his grasp and stormed back to the couch, sitting down in a huff and massaging her aching skull. 

 

She felt a dip in the cushion beside her, taking her by surprise. She peeked at Hook from the corner of one eye. He was gazing at her with a soft expression, his breathing more calm and even and he scrubbed a broad palm over his face, his jaw relaxing as he rubbed at it.

 

“You're right, Swan. This is just… it's just a lot to take in. And I've worked too hard to protect myself and take down Gold once and for all for it to be ruined because I got tangled up with the police.” Emma looked like she might interrupt him but he cut her off. “What I'm saying is I believe you, love. Despite my better judgement, I trust you're telling me the truth. And I think we can take Gold down together.”

 

Emma was sure her jaw had hit the floor. She stared blankly at him, periodically stammering out a few vowel sounds and he chuckled, reaching up slowly and tipping her mouth shut with a knuckle under her chin. He skimmed his thumb over the flesh there, just under her lip, and she felt heat unexpectedly rush to the surface of every inch of her skin even after he withdrew. 

 

_ Work with him _ , Milah urged, interrupting whatever had just passed between them. Emma schooled her features into something more controlled and cleared her throat. 

 

“What did you have in mind?”

 

Hook grinned at her acquiescence and stood, making his way back to retrieve the binder on the desk. He sat beside her and propped the binder on his hook, flipping it open and scooting so his thigh was pressed against hers. She felt dizzy. It was probably more the head wound than his closeness. Probably.

 

“Here, this is a shipping yard that Gold works out of,” he tapped on the page with dexterous fingers, showing several highlighted sections of an aerial map. “We have mapped out shipment processes and schedules, as well as security and entry points. We often use it to take shipments and keep ourselves afloat, but something big has been happening lately. They're moving something that has significantly more value than black market art and finery. Security has nearly doubled.”

 

“What does that have to do with my case?” Emma asked, leaning in to get a better look.

 

“Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.” He shrugged, his shoulder brushing hers, and she stiffened slightly at the innocent contact. The spicy scent of his cologne invaded her senses and overwhelmed the jasmine that usually took residence there. “Fact is, if we can find out, you have leverage, darling. You can use it to find your women, if they are truly connected to him.”

 

Emma thought about this for a moment. Now that she was clearly out with Gold, this was her best option. Maybe she could work out some kind of deal for Hook as well, since he was being so cooperative. She could take down Gold, save these women, and save Killian Jones, all in the same instance. This would work. It had to.

 

“Alright, Killian,” she felt his breath hitch again beside her when she said his name, “I can work with this. You've got a deal.”

 

She looked up from the page at him and realized just how close he was. She could feel the warmth of his breath fanning over her cheek, and the blue of his eyes was even brighter up close, like two glittering pools of ocean water drawing her in. If she wasn't careful, she was afraid she could drown in them. His tongue poked out, tracing the inside of his bottom lip slowly, and she didn't even realize that she'd tracked the motion with her eyes until the corner of his mouth lifted in a satisfied smirk.

 

“Aye, love. I think we'll make quite the team.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is updating so late in the evening! I've had a super busy day! I'm not going to say much about this chapter, just that it's another turning point :P As always, thank you to @kmomof4 for her fabulous bet skills and for generally being an awesome person, and to @courtorderedcake for making the AMAZING artwork for this fic. Also thanks to you, lovely readers! I appreciate and adore you all! Hope you like the new chapter!

Water sluiced over Emma's body in hot rivulets, working the weariness from her muscles and bones. The water had finally stopped pooling a brownish red at her feet as it washed away the blood on her skin and hair, now running clear. Milah's presence had died down after the discussion earlier. It must have been exhausting to remain at that level of contact for so long. Most encounters didn't even last a fraction of that time. And frankly, Emma was quite ready for a break. It was nice to have some privacy, especially since she wasn't even safe from Milah inside her head, although it seemed she only picked up on thoughts that she intended to speak but didn't. 

 

Emma wasn't sure how long she'd been standing under the stream of seemingly unending hot water, but she was fully intent on taking advantage of the moment before she had to dive headfirst back into the craziness that had become her life.

 

Jefferson had heard about the explosion and connected the dots. He had been furious, demanding that Emma return to base, threatening to call Regina and pull the plug, but she had begged a week out of him. A week with Hook, working the angle they'd come up with. He was adamant that this was the worst idea she'd ever come up with, especially since Emma refused to provide him with Hook's identity (in the poorly concealed guise that she simply did not know it), but at least she didn't have to hide her new alliance from him. 

 

Well, she  _ may _ not have told him that her cover was blown where Hook was concerned, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. This was about Gold. Taking him down, once and for all. Both of them understood what calling off this op meant. 

 

This was their Hail Mary.

 

She cranked the water off when her legs grew tired of standing, drying herself with a scratchy terry cloth towel, and moving to stand in front of the sink. There was a dingy mirror there and she wiped the steam from it to survey her appearance. She looked like shit. 

 

Bruises mottled her skin, concentrated especially where she had collided full force with the earth on her hip and shoulder. Her head still felt like her heart was pounding directly inside it, but at least the nausea and blurred vision had died down. The ringing in her ears remained, though, a result of being so close to the explosion. Dark circles ringed her eyes, betraying exactly how much sleep she'd gotten in the last two weeks since this all started.

 

A soft knock sounded at the door.

 

“Swan?” Killian's voice asked gently through the thin particle board. “I have some clothes for you.”

 

Emma wrapped the towel around her, covering herself, and cracked the door. Hook's grin immediately widened at the sight of her, his eyes unabashedly raking over her barely concealed form and she rolled her eyes, snatching the bundle of fabric from his arm and slamming the door in his face again.

 

“No need for hostility, love,” his muffled voice teased. “Just appreciating the view.”

 

“You're about to appreciate my foot right up your ass,” she shot back, dropping the towel and aggressively yanking on the over large sweats he had given her, her muscles protesting the movement, and rolled them at the waist as they were about two sizes too big for her. She put her bra back on and pulled the (also too big) gray t-shirt over her head, hearing him chuckle on the other side of the thin barrier between them.

 

“If you say so, Swan,” he patronized, sounding slightly further away than before. Emma bristled at that, gathering her ruined clothes and flinging the door open with force, making it rattle on its hinges. She stomped her way into the small bedroom like room until she was standing in front of where he'd moved next to the queen sized bed. 

 

“Let's get one thing straight, buddy,” she said, pointing a vicious finger in his amused face. “I'm here to do a job. Nothing else. So you can keep on looking, but this,” she motioned between them with her finger, “not gonna happen. Okay?”

 

Hook's expression didn't waver for a moment, holding her gaze so she could see the laughter dancing within the blue depths of his eyes. 

 

“You're rather fetching when you're angry, has anyone ever told you that?”

 

Emma let out a noise that was half growl, half screech in exasperation and pushed past him, dropping her clothes with the rest of her things. She glanced at her gun and wondered briefly exactly how terrible it would be if it accidentally went off in the direction of his foot before retrieving the comb he'd set out for her and gingerly pulling the snarls from her towel dried hair. She braided her hair and tied it off with a rubber band she'd found sitting on the table next to the bed and sat on the mattress with a bounce, Killian's eyes on her the whole time.

 

“Okay, when I said you could keep looking, I didn't expect you to take it literally,” she said, not even turning to look at him.

 

“I'm a very literal person, Swan,” he replied lightly, moving towards her. “Are you almost ready to go? We'll stop by a shop I know and get you some clothes that fit, not that it doesn't speak to the primal male in me to see you in mine, and then we will get some supplies together.”

 

Emma stiffened and fought the urge to tilt her chin down to sniff the fabric covering her body to see if it smelled like him. Of course it would. She was in  _ his damn clothes _ . He did this on purpose. She just knew he did. 

 

“Yup,” she said, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word. “Let's go.”

 

Emma was grateful that either Will or Killian had had the foresight to drive her car back to the compound. She needed to be the one that drove, needed to feel a little more in control. Less than an hour later, they were in a consignment shop in a quaint little part of the city that Emma had rarely been to. Of  _ course _ it would be a second hand shop. Two spirits on the regular weren't enough to deal with. 

 

“Time to make it a party, I guess,” Emma muttered under her breath and got out of the car. Killian was already waiting for her on the curb, his blue eyes watching her as she struggled not to wince getting out of her seat. She adjusted her oversized clothing and made her way towards him. She really needed to tell him what to expect in a place like this.

 

“Ready, Swan?” His voice interrupted her nervous thoughts and she blinked up at him, fighting the urge to chew on her nail.

 

“Uh, in just a minute. Before we go in there, this is a second hand shop, right?” she asked.

 

“Aye,” he replied, his brow furrowing as he tried to follow her train of thought. Emma bobbed her head once and looked down to her feet.

 

“Do you remember how I said Milah found me?”

 

“Something about a shirt? Wasn't it?”

 

“Ah, yes. Yep. See, I kinda have a  _ thing _ about places like this. Sometimes the clothes that are donated belonged to people… well, people only I can talk to anymore…” she trailed off.

 

“Oh,” Killian replied, slightly surprised as he put the pieces of the puzzle together. “And these things are like a… trigger? When you're near them?”

 

Emma shook her head. “It isn't usually enough to be near them. I have to touch it. And suddenly I can see and hear things that no one else can. It's a little unsettling. And I've never experienced it with someone who, uh, knows about it.”

 

Hook seemed to weigh her words in his head, as if he were plotting the best course of action here. A slow, easy smile slipped onto his lips and he reached for her hand, tucking it into the crook of his bad arm and taking Emma completely by surprise.

 

“Well, I'll just have to touch the clothes first until you find something you like. We are shopping for knickers, aye?”

 

Emma snatched her arm back and slapped his shoulder, although it didn't come off nearly as aggressive as she wanted it to. She knew he was teasing and the thought of him handling her underwear… well, it was time to change the subject. 

 

She marched past him, chin tilted up, and swung the door to the shop open. She gestured inside, allowing him to enter first with a mocking bow, mimicking his previous gesture from the compound.

 

Clothes shopping was a lot more fun with Hook than it was with Ruby, she found. He had made some genuinely helpful selections for her perusal, making it so she didn't even need to touch anything until she was sure she liked it. She didn't know how much she appreciated the gesture until it was actually happening. 

 

It was a little strange how quickly Hook had flipped from staunch skeptic to making adjustments in his own behavior to accommodate for her “gift”, but it touched her in a way that no one else had been able to. She watched him as he jokingly held up items against his own chest on hangers, his tongue poking teasingly out of the corner of his mouth and laughed along with his jokes (even if her laughter was accompanied by a patented eye roll). She felt an overwhelming sense of comfort as they shopped and she was surprised to find the walls she had carefully constructed around her heart over the years slipping just the slightest bit. Killian Jones was unlike any man she had ever met, and, at least in this moment, she was glad to have him with her.

 

In the end, Emma ended up picking out two tank tops, a t-shirt, a sweater, and a pair of jeans and leggings, none of which (thankfully) sparked an encounter. Much to Killian's dismay, she did not get any underwear, but then she reminded him that they were in a  _ second hand shop _ and, while they only accepted new in package items on that front, it was just a little much for her to consider.

 

“Does this mean you'll be going commando, then, Swan?” he murmured in her ear as they approached the cash register, his hand finding the small of her back with ease.

 

“Wouldn't you like to know,” she said with a bat of her eyelashes and she smirked as Killian's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. 

 

“Perhaps I would.” She heard him murmur as she approached the smiling red headed girl behind the counter. She flushed, her steady gait faltering for a moment, but she recovered herself quickly and smiled back at the cashier, loading her items on the counter. 

 

“That'll be $38.57,” she said, packing the items into a bag for her. Emma dug in the pocket of her borrowed sweats for the money she had put there, extending the cash over the counter. The clerk's fingers swept over Emma's, the silver ring on her middle finger swiping over the flesh of her palm and Emma knew it was coming before it even happened.

 

Suddenly, she smelled fresh gingerbread and heard a voice she didn't recognize humming a song.

 

_ I love you, Addie,  _ the voice said and Emma froze, her eyes blowing wide and she fought back the sudden shaking in her palm as she reached for her change.

 

“Have a good day!” the girl chirped, completely clueless to the inner turmoil Emma was having. Emma gave her a tight smile and said nothing, snatching the bag off the counter and bolting for the door as quickly as she could without looking completely mental.

 

She burst from the door and the encounter had all but faded away, the last remnants of baked goods still lingering in her sinuses, but she knew it, too, would be gone soon. She took several deep, calming breaths in the fresh air and let her heart rate return to normal.

 

“Swan?”

 

Killian. Shit. 

 

She'd forgotten he was with her for a moment in her panic and she felt her heartbeat kick back up at the thought of having to explain her behavior to him.

 

Best to get it over with.

 

“Yeah?” she asked, turning to face him, her hands balled into fists at her side, making the plastic of the bag in her left hand crinkle.

 

“Are you alright, love? Did one of your… er… moments happen?” His voice was truly concerned and, instead of calming her, it only freaked her out more. 

 

She nodded sharply, not meeting his eyes. “I think it was the clerk's grandmother maybe? I touched her ring,” she explained.

 

“That's…”  _ here it comes _ , Emma thought, “amazing, love. Why didn't you tell her?”

 

If Emma's jaw could physically touch the pavement, she was positive it would have been scraping the concrete right about then. Killian was looking at her with such curiosity and fascination that it sent a thread of panic straight through her.

 

“Why didn't I tell her? Are you serious right now? What happened to ‘not this bit again’?” she snapped. Hook sighed.

 

“Look, Swan, I know I haven't been the most supportive of your…  _ talents _ , and I won't deny that it is quite a shock to hear that someone you loved very much is still trying to reach you from the other side, but I…” he tapered off, stepping slightly closer to her and Emma held her breath. “If I can start to believe, anyone can. You can't expect people to believe you if you never tell anyone. You should tell her.” His eyes blazed into hers, willing her to take a leap of faith in herself, as he was with her.

 

Emma was sure she was going mad. Or he was. Maybe both of them.

 

"I am not a walking freak show! I'm not Sylvia fucking Browne, I'm not some foofy bullshit psychic bitch, and I just want to be  _ left alone _ ,” she ranted, flapping her arms at her sides. “I  _ never _ asked to be this person. I just want to live my life! You have no idea what it’s like to feel crazy day in and day out, never knowing who you can trust enough to tell and I-"   
  
Emma's mouth was still trying to move, spill over with reasons why, but it was hard to do with Killian's lips sealed against hers. She was shocked still, arms suspended mid air, interrupted in their wild gesturing, her mind overwhelmed with the thought of how  _ perfect _ , how  _ right _ this felt, and that was  _ absolutely  _ besides the point because  _ Killian fucking Jones was kissing her _ . Her body finally caught up with what was happening and she pulled back, but his hooked arm had looped itself around her waist and held her fast to him.   
  
"Please, darling,  _ do _ shut up," he murmured only mere centimeters from her lips before her stunned psyche could formulate a response to the kiss at all. She felt anger boil in the pit of her stomach as she registered what he'd said, the sensation mixing with the fear and attraction already simmering there.    
  
" _ You _ shut up," she growled, then fisted her hand in his shirt and slammed her lips back into his.    
  
Kissing Killian Jones was unlike any other experience she had ever had in her life. His lips were softer than she expected, moving with expert precision over hers, his hand wrapping around the nape of her neck as his thumb stroked over her jawline. He nipped at her bottom lip and she opened for him on instinct, gasping at the first touch of his tongue to hers. He let out a soft little sound in the back of his throat that she might have missed, had they not been pressed so tightly together, and he tilted her head with a firm but gentle press of his fingers at her neck to kiss her more deeply. He kissed her like he would never get enough, stealing the very breath from her lungs until she felt like they were going to burst. 

 

She pulled back when the need for oxygen became too much, still clinging to his collar like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Based on the slight sway in her balance when she broke away, it probably was. They stayed in each other's space in silence, save for the sound of their panting breaths intermingling in the air.   
  
"That was..." Killian began, sounding completely wrecked. Emma released his collar and stepped back, blinking up at him and hopefully clearing some of the haze from her eyes. He looked just as wrecked as he sounded, his hooded eyes simmering with a dark heat, and she was sure she wasn't hiding her reaction all that well either. She needed to shut this down.   
  
"Me shutting you up,” she filled in for him. He appeared confused for a moment and then a look of understanding swept over his features that made her heart clench tighter than it already was. “Let's get back." 

 

She turned and began a stiff walk back to her car before she heard his soft murmur towards her retreating form.

 

“As you wish, Swan.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pokes head in* Hi guys! So some of you may have noticed there wasn't an update from me last week. If you follow me on Tumblr, you already knew there wouldn't be one, but I thought I would acknowledge that here as well. I struggled a lot with this chapter, and had a lot of personal issues with writing in general over the last week. I definitely apologize and appreciate all of your patience while I worked through my mental kinks. If you ever have any questions, or you just want to know what's going on with me or my writing, Tumblr is the place to catch up on my shenanigans. You can follow me there @doodlelolly0910. More than ever this week, thank you thank you thank you to my wonderful beta and friend @kmomof4 for being so awesome and supportive, and also I will forever be in melting fangirl joy over the beautiful art that @courtorderedcake made for this story. Give her some love, and read all her stuff. She's amazing. And last, but not least, thank YOU, my lovely readers. The fact that y'all take time out of your day to read anything of mine just fills me with joy. So thank you. So much. Without further ado, here's chapter 16!

**TRIGGER WARNING: DESCRIPTION OF A DEAD BODY**

Why she was still so affected by a stupid kiss, Emma would never know.

 

But here she was, studiously avoiding looking over to where Hook was standing with a small, rotund man called Smee of all things ( _oh, the irony_ ) in order to obtain something that was not very easy to obtain. Which was apparently what William Smee excelled at, obtaining hard to get objects. She hazarded a glance at the two men, simply to find out what was taking so damn long, and immediately regretted it.

 

Smee was scrutinizing her, his distrust clear as day, but that wasn't what threw her. It was the set of bright blue eyes that were locked on her rapidly reheating face and the peek of tongue that slipped past Hook's lips as he swiped it over them. He thumbed the scruff on the edge of his jaw, responding to something Smee said half heartedly, his gaze staying resolutely on her face.

 

She couldn't look away fast enough.

 

_Good man_ , Milah whispered without warning. Emma jumped, her face reddening further, utterly embarrassed to be caught in some sort of moment with Hook by his dead ex-lover. Slowly, the scent of jasmine filtered into her senses.

 

“Hello to you, too,” Emma grumbled, then froze, her eyes widening and her brows climbing her forehead.

 

_Did she know about the kiss?!_

 

_Yes_ , Milah murmured and Emma felt her stomach turn as the spirit answered her unasked question. _Good man. Worthy._

 

Emma's heart stuttered through a change in gears in her chest before ramping up in speed. She swallowed thickly, trying to think of a response but coming up entirely empty. She looked to where the two men talked out of the corner of her eye and saw them turn and walk into the building.

 

“Can you just… not… do that. We get along now. That's enough,” Emma said through gritted teeth. A silence descended in the car around Emma.

 

_Good man_.

 

The final whispered words faded away along with the scent of Milah’s perfume and Emma was alone again. She sighed heavily, Milah's words weighing on her already heavy mind.

 

Emma startled as the door opened to the passenger side of the bug, but she recovered quickly as Hook settled himself in beside her. He didn't appear to have anything new with him and Emma's brow knitted together in confusion. He glanced at her face and then quickly away and she just knew that he had done something she didn't approve of.

 

“All set, Swan, let's go,” he said, patting the dashboard with his good hand and shifting in his seat. She didn't move to start the car, only staring at him intently, trying to figure out just what it was that he was hiding.

 

He exhaled sharply through his nose and turned his head only slightly to get a better look at her stone faced expression.

 

“You know, vehicles usually function better once they're running.” He gestured to the ignition with his hooked arm, still not making eye contact.

 

“What did you do?” she asked bluntly and Killian looked genuinely surprised before steeling his features once more.

 

“Well you saw most of it. We had a chat, went inside, and now it's time to leave.”

 

“And what happened while you were inside, Killian?” He winced at her use of his given name.

 

“Business,” he replied, his tone clipped. He turned back to look out the windshield.

 

“What kind of business?”

 

“The kind you needn’t concern yourself with, love,” he said softly, but his tone brokered no arguments. Emma studied him for a moment longer. The way his dark hair fell over his forehead, his bright blue eyes avoiding hers. His jaw ticked, not in anger, but frustration. Her senses still fired off red flags that he had done something he shouldn’t have, but Emma recognized his behavior for what it was. He was trying to protect her.

 

So she let it go.

 

For now.

 

Wordlessly, she reached up and turned the keys dangling from the ignition, the engine to the little yellow bug rumbling to life behind them, and she drove them back to the compound. As soon as they had gotten back, Emma hadn’t even needed to worry about putting space between them. Twilight had already descended around them and Hook wasted no time in disappearing into the shadows between buildings.

 

“Get some rest. You’ll need it for tomorrow,” he said before he vanished. He was obviously avoiding her, but that was fine by Emma. If he hadn’t put the space between them, she would have, certainly.

 

Emma made her way back into the living quarters, staying clear of the office area in case that was where Hook had escaped to, making her way into the bedroom Hook had led her to before. She was tired. So very tired. These kinds of things tended to happen, though, when you hadn’t slept in a week and sustained more than one head injury. The cut on her head throbbed with her heartbeat a few times at the thought, but Emma ignored it. She was getting good at ignoring the small things. She had to stay singularly focused. There was no room for anything else.

 

She spied the blanket, sheet, and pillow that Hook had left out at the foot of the bed, for her, she presumed, and picked it up, setting it on the ground. She wasn’t a hundred percent sure _whose_ bed this was, exactly, but she was almost positive it was Hook’s and she wasn’t looking to put him out. She just wanted to relax a moment. Setting the pillow against the wall where the headboard would have gone, had there been one, she toed off her boots and spread the sheet down over the top of the already crisply made up mattress. She walked across the room to where a small card table sat, empty of all things except her messenger bag.

 

She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to bring in her sketchbook from the car, but she had, and now she knew it would bring her the comfort she sought in this moment. She grabbed only one pencil from her bag and flipped open the book to a blank page before settling onto the bed. The moment the pencil touched the paper, she was lost in the motion of the drawing, unsure of what she was even sketching until a flower began to take form over the page. Long, thin, pointed petals began to fill the space in the shape of a star. She shaded a bit and began another. And another when that one was finished.

 

Suddenly, she was in a field of flowers like the ones she had been drawing. Instead of leaning against the wall, her back was against the rough bark of a large tree, her sketchbook having disappeared entirely. The hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention, goosebumps exploding over her skin despite the warmth of her surroundings, and she knew she wasn’t alone. Emma eased to her feet, finding she wasn’t nearly as sore as before, and turned around, laying eyes on the tall man standing off to her left.

 

Liam’s mouth was set in a firm line as he watched her get to her feet and approach him and Emma grew wary of the obvious disapproval in his stare.

 

_“Hello, Liam,”_ she greeted him warmly all the same.

 

_“Emma,”_ he returned coolly. _“Would you care to explain why you were snogging my little brother in the street today?”_

 

Emma blinked rapidly at his blunt words before the anger and embarrassment swirled in her abdomen again.

 

_“You know, between you and Milah, I’m beginning to think I don’t have a moment’s privacy. Do you watch me shower as well? Keep track of my toilet habits?”_ she snapped, folding her arms across her chest. Liam blushed but his expression remained stern.

 

_“I don’t keep track of your anything, unless it has to do with Killian. What were you thinking?”_ he asked tersely. Emma’s patience was already wearing thin. As she brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, her hands found their place on her jean clad hips.

 

_“I was_ thinking _that your brother is an insufferable ass who needed a dose of his own medicine. It was just a kiss to shut him up. And he kissed me first, by the way.”_ A thin honey colored brow arched high on her forehead.

 

Liam made a low humming sound, as if he didn’t entirely believe her. She wasn’t sure she entirely believed herself.

 

_“There is a fine line that you’re flirting with, Emma.”_ He folded his arms over his broad chest.

 

_“Pun intended?”_ she snarked.

 

_“I mean it. You’re not here to fraternize with Killian. He is in real trouble, and if you’re only going to complicate things rather than help him, maybe it’s best if you bow out.”_

 

_“Not a chance in hell,”_ she growled, kicking the flowers at her feet. They exploded into a flurry of white petals, looking much like snow swirling between them.

 

They glared at each other for a long minute before Liam let out a sigh.

 

_“Listen, lass, I know you’re under a lot of pressure. You’re tired, maybe not thinking straight, but I’m telling you now, getting involved with Killian is a mistake. For him and for you. Don’t forget, at the end of all of this, you’ll be going your separate ways. Think of your own heart, if nothing else,”_ he murmured, taking a step closer to her, and Emma scoffed.

 

_“My heart is just fine. Your brother has become a friend, at best. You know, you and Milah, you guys came to_ me _for help._ Not _the other way around,”_ she reminded him. Liam nodded.

 

_“As you’re well aware, I’m sure, options to reach out from beyond are… limited. At best.”_ Liam’s brow pinched, deep furrows of concern working their way into his forehead. _“I need to know that your priorities are straight.”_

 

_“That is one thing you never need to worry about. And, sorry to disappoint, but Killian is not my top priority right now. Finishing this case is. Finding these missing girls is.  Taking down that bastard Gold is my number one priority. And nothing, not even your brother, and especially not some stupid, fucking kiss, is going to push me off my path,”_ Emma said, now shaking with the weight of the words pouring from her. Liam’s face was unchanged.

 

_“You say that, Emma, but I see my brother. I watch him every day. And his heart is definitely on the line here. I’d bet my eternal soul that yours is, too,”_ he said, more gently this time. That statement struck Emma hard, her breath evaporating from her lungs.

 

_His eternal soul_.

 

The only thing he had left. The only thing that truly mattered in _anyone’s_ life. His slate blue eyes stared into her jade green, the intensity of his words washing over the moment. There was no other way to answer him but honestly.

 

_“I won’t let any feelings from Killian or myself get in the way of what I need to do,”_ she replied quietly and Liam’s shoulders sagged in relief. _“And Killian will come around. We will fix this.”_

 

_“I truly hope so, lass,”_ Liam said, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder. _“Get some rest. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”_ Emma smirked at his echoing of his younger brother’s words from earlier. The Jones men were so alike sometimes, and then others, they couldn’t be more different. Emma looked down to pick a white flower from the field, and when she looked up, Liam was gone.

 

Emma decided that she was going to take advantage of the beautiful dreamscape she found herself in, turning to head back to the tree, but as soon as she made the rotation, the scene was gone as well. She was at her apartment building, at the end of the hallway by the elevator on her floor, but there was a red string in front of her door. Her eyes followed the string down, down, down until she saw the other end laying at her feet.

 

She bent down, the flower in her grasp fluttering to the ground beside her, replacing it with the red string between her fingers. She began following the string, one hand on it at all times, passing it to the other and back again as she walked towards her apartment. The door was open and she followed the string inside.

 

She wasn’t prepared for what she saw.

 

Women, naked women, battered and bruised, and _lifeless_ , their eyes staring blankly into the void of her living room, piled atop one another in a heap, all of them bearing faces that she'd only seen in case files. Emma stood frozen in the doorway, her mouth hanging open in utter horror and the string gripped tightly in her fists. Limbs stuck out in every direction, cuts and bruises marring the flesh. Suddenly, from the middle of the pile, one of the hands began to move, just a slight twitch of the fingers. Emma ran towards the indication of life, desperately moving arms and legs and hair to reach whoever she could still save.

 

A woman with short, dark hair in front of her face was at the other end of the movement. Emma swept her hair away to look at her pale, blemished features. She recognized her immediately. Ivy Belfrey. The most recent woman to go missing. Her big brown eyes were dimming, her life force fading like all the rest, and Emma grasped her hand tightly.

 

_“Stay with me, Ivy, I'm gonna get you help,”_ Emma told her and a single fat tear rolled down Ivy's cheek.

 

_“Why didn't you save us?”_ Ivy asked on a cracked whisper. Emma's throat closed up at her words and her green eyes blew wide. Ivy's expression twisted into something dark and angry and she reared up from her place within the corpses. _“WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE US?”_ she screamed. Before Emma could answer, Ivy had reached down and yanked the string from Emma's hand.

 

The entire room blew apart in a fiery explosion and Emma screamed…

 

“EMMA!”

 

Emma's eyes snapped open and she sat up in the bed she was in, looking around frantically. She was still at the compound. Her eyes cleared from the haze of her dream and found Killian, staring at her in the dark of the room, concern etched into his features. Tentatively, he reached up with his hand and brushed a wild snarl of blonde curls out of her face, his knuckles skimming her cheek soothingly as he withdrew, but Emma instinctively leaned into his calming touch. At her motion, Killian moved closer to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side.

 

Then Emma did something she hadn’t done in years in front of another living soul. She cried. She turned her face into his chest and her tears were immediately soaked up by the cotton of his t-shirt. She wasn’t sure when he slipped further up onto the bed, or when she’d ended up curled up half in his lap, him murmuring soft, calming things in her ear as sobs racked her body, but she did know one thing: she felt the safest she had since this whole ordeal started right there in Killian Jones’ arms.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay y'all so this chapter is a big one. Big reveal! I'm a pickle! No wait, that's something else :P But there really is some big stuff happening here. A new character introduction, more Emma and Killian bonding, lots and lots of revelations that will even carry over to next chapter. I won't say too much. I hope you guys like it! And thank you so much for all your kind words and lovely reviews. They really mean more to me than you know, even if I don't always have the time to respond to each of them as I would like. Thank you guys, so so much. And thanks also to @kmomof4 who has already had her brain exploded by this chapter (lol sorry?) and to @courtorderedcake who made the beautiful art that goes with this story and I will never be over how amazing it is. Here we go with chapter 17! Almost at the end!!! EEP!!!

Emma woke up feeling refreshed for the first time in a long time. Refreshed and warm. She snuggled into the firm pillow underneath her and sighed, content. The sound of rustling paper made her wrinkle her nose and grunt. It was just annoying enough to keep her from slipping into peaceful slumber again. A chuckle sounded from beneath her head and something tightened around her back and waist, causing her eyes to snap open, her head popping up from where it had been apparently resting on Hook's t-shirt clad chest.

 

“Good morning, darling,” his low rumble emanated from his torso and seeped into her middle where they were pressed together, his left arm sweeping soothingly over her back. “Sleep better?” The question was light but his eyes studied her face for any signs of nightmare induced stress. Emma cleared her throat, nodding and gently disentangling herself to a sitting position beside him on the mattress. His arm slipped from its place around her and back under the blankets, the only part of him to be covered by it.

 

Killian Jones in the morning was far more a gorgeous sight than any human being had any right to be. His dark hair was mussed, sticking up in directions that would look odd on someone else, but on him it only left Emma wondering what it would be like to run her fingers through it. His eyes were bright and playful, his dark lashes fluttering over rosy cheeks when he blinked. He seemed… softer somehow. 

 

“You are positively radiant in the morning, Swan,” he murmured and Emma blinked twice, not having noticed during her perusal of his face that he had been observing her as well. She played it off on a scoff, scooping her sleep tangled hair off her neck and securing it in a messy bun on top of her head.

 

“I’m a mess,” she objected, stretching her arms languidly over her head and wiggling her hips to work out the kinks in her back. Her face felt swollen and puffy from her sobbing during the night. 

 

“Radiant. Like the sun.” Hook's voice pulled her attention back and she looked at him curiously. He was staring at her so intently it made her squirm involuntarily, her gaze darting away from his. That's when she saw it.

 

In his lap sat her leatherbound sketchbook, page open to a portrait she'd done some time ago of her grandmother. He followed her gaze and reached up to scratch behind his ear. Emma's eyes shot back up to his, her face blanched as her mind raced through everything he may have seen. 

 

“You looked through my sketches?” she whispered. Hook sat a little straighter, letting one of his legs fall off the side of the bed and his foot rest on the floor. His cheeks had pinkened a bit and the hand that had been scratching behind his ear had now moved to rub over the scruff on his jaw. 

 

“I rolled over onto it this morning. I didn't know what it was,” he replied, and his hand came down to rest on top of the book, keeping it there with him when all Emma wanted to do was snatch it back and run away. “You're very talented.”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Emma said, reaching for the book, but Hook's hand curled over the top of it, keeping it in place on his lap. 

 

“I have a favorite,” he murmured and Emma swallowed thickly, frozen in place. He dipped his gaze down to the book and flipped through a few pages, stopping and meeting her gaze again. Emma looked down, her heartbeat thundering through her ears.

 

A landscape was on the page, the docks at sunset, one of her favorite places to sit and think. She had played with new pencils that day, the colors on the page vibrant and blended together in a riot of golds and pinks and purples. It was her favorite, too. But absolutely not what she expected. She looked down at the page in confusion and looked back up to Hook’s face.

 

“There’s a lot of emotion here,” he explained. “A real definition of character. I like it very much.” Emma blew air out through her pursed lips, flustered at the compliment and searching for words that weren’t what she was actually thinking. She had paused just long enough for him to continue on. “I suppose you were expecting me to show you this one.” While she had searched for words, Hook, had apparently thumbed the corner of the book to the exact page she had been dreading, apparently memorized in its place in her book by its subject.

 

Killian Jones himself stared out from the page, his monotone features punctated by those blue, searching eyes. It wasn’t until now that Emma realized just how accurate her sketch actually was, right down to the scar on his right cheek just under his eye. His hair was tousled almost exactly as it lay now on the real life version. When she looked back up to meet Hook’s stare, the same shade of blue on the page met her as well.

 

“When did you do this?” he asked softly, holding her gaze. Emma felt a heat creep up over her collarbones and onto her face.

 

“Almost a month ago,” she replied honestly on a whisper. Killian’s eyes turned wondrous, as if he were fully understanding for the first time that she truly had been sent to him by his loved ones in the beyond. The tension in the air weighed heavier on her skin, but it had changed. Instead of a fearful sliver that wove its way into it, it was warm now, and all she wanted to do was move closer to Killian. His own gaze dropped to her lips and Emma was  _ sure _ he was going to kiss her again. Until he abruptly stood, pulling his left arm behind his back and extending her book back to her, still open to the page.

 

“I have somewhere I think we should go today. Get dressed.” His words were short, but not unkind. Emma was confused at the sudden change in him. As much as she thought she was prepared for Killian Jones, he still found ways to keep her on her toes. Keeping his arm tucked just out of her viewpoint, Hook moved to grab some clothing of his own, along with his prosthesis, and disappeared into the bathroom, Emma assumed to change. She felt a twinge in her heart that she may have made him slightly uncomfortable with the picture, and that he felt the need to hide his arm from her. Her thoughts were soon overrun by his words though, and she wondered briefly where he might be taking her.

 

Emma did as he bade, dressing quickly while Killian remained in the bathroom. He finally emerged, fully dressed, hooked hand in place, just as Emma was sweeping her hair up into a ponytail. He gave her a warm smile and a fond look, which she happily returned. She was glad to see he wasn’t upset with her. She stood and made her way to her duffel, retrieving her cell and shooting off a text to Jefferson to check in for the day. She had just received a confirmation from him when she looked up to see Killian making the bed.

 

“Old habits die hard, huh?” she teased, gesturing to the bed. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, completing the task with a smirk. “Navy must have made a real impact.” He chuckled.

 

“I should have known you’d know that. Fine policemanship, Swan,” he replied, smoothing out the blanket with his hand and hook. 

 

“It wasn’t hard once Milah gave me your name. And Liam told me later on. And if none of that happened, those corners would have been a dead giveaway,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. He laughed out loud at that, moving from the bed to the door and sweeping it open.

 

“After you, darling.”

 

Hook drove this time. Emma was slightly nervous at first when he had rested his false hand on the steering wheel, but she relaxed as time went on. As with everything he did, Killian was in complete control behind the wheel, and his taste in music wasn’t half bad either. She hummed along to Bad Company, and found out he had a nice singing voice as well when he belted out Living On a Prayer. She  _ did not  _ blush when he complimented her own on Barracuda with a waggle of his ridiculous eyebrows. Before she knew it, she saw a sign that read “Now Leaving Boston City Limits” and she looked over to him curiously.

 

“Trust me, Swan,” he said, not taking his eyes from the road, but offering her a kind smile. “You should tell that Chapelle fellow that you’ve left the city.” Emma hadn’t even thought of that, though she was sure Jefferson was tracking her phone, and she was touched that he thought of a way to make her feel comfortable. He seemed to be doing that more and more, perhaps his way of making up for the fact that he hadn’t trusted her in the beginning, and earning hers in return. She didn’t make a move to get her phone out, and instead, set her bag on the floor beneath her feet, a small gesture of her own trust in him. He smiled broadly at that and they continued on their way. 

They soon turned down a country road, a dirt stretch that ran past the horizon, and Emma was even more puzzled than ever, especially when Hook parked by some trees on the side of the road near virtually nothing. He looked at her sheepishly and something twisted in Emma’s belly telling her she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

 

“I need you to leave your cell here, love. I can’t have anyone tracking us to where we’re going. I’m leaving mine as well,” he rushed to assure her but she was already shaking her head.

 

“That doesn’t sound like something I’m game for,” she said, gathering her bag into her lap. He sighed heavily.

 

“The person we are going to see, I’ve worked very hard to make sure she stays safe. And the only way to make sure she stays that way is if I’m the only one who knows where she is.” Killian ran a hand through his hair.

 

“But you’re taking me to see her,” she shot back, grip on her bag tightening.

 

“Aye. You, I trust.” 

 

Emma eyed him, allowing his words to sink in. Going against every cynical bone in her body, she opened up her bag and fished out her phone, only hesitating slightly before handing it over to Hook. He captured her hand along with it, turning them over so he could kiss the back of hers firmly, keeping hold of her gaze as he did so. Something inside of Emma calmed again, and Hook joined her cell with his, opening the door and going to the tree nearest to them. He pulled out a lock box and unlocked it with a key from his belt, placing the phones inside and locking them again. He got back into the car and started it again, sighing in relief. Emma sighed for a different reason altogether as they made their journey another few miles down the road.

 

Emma’s anxiety and impatience grew until they had reached what appeared to be their destination, turning down a few side trails until they reached a short gravel road that her bug would have never made it through. A little farm house that looked somewhat like a fairytale cottage sat isolated at the end of the road, looking quite out of pace with it’s manicured green lawn, small rose garden, and white picket fence. Killian parked next to an older truck and gave Emma a nervous glance before darting out of the car. Emma took a few calming breaths, composing herself, and she didn’t even notice Killian had come around to her side of the car to open her door for her. She accepted his hand and they made their way to the house, him holding onto her as they walked in a way that made her feel more at ease and entirely unsettled at the same time.

 

As they walked up the path, the door opened and a wide eyed woman poked her head out the door. She looked at Emma fearfully, her throat working as she swallowed, but she relaxed immediately when she set her eyes on Killian. She opened the door fully, her light brown hair swinging down over her shoulders, and walked outside and towards them, wrapping Killian up in a warm hug. Killian returned the embrace one armed, his hand still wrapped firmly around Emma’s. 

 

“Killian Jones. It’s been too long since you’ve come to see me,” the woman said in an accent that she couldn’t quite place. Nearly English, but not quite. 

 

“Aye, I know, I’ve been a little busy. I’m sorry for that,” he said with a small smile as he pulled away. “I do have someone that I want you to meet, though. This is Emma Swan. Emma, Belle French.”

 

Emma wasn’t sure if his introduction with her alias was intentional or not, but she was grateful for it all the same. She reached out to shake Belle’s hand with a smile of her own. 

 

“A pleasure to meet you, Emma,” the brunette returned and Emma replied in kind. “Come in and sit down. Tea for anyone?”

 

“That sounds wonderful, love, thank you,” Killian confirmed and they went inside the little house together. Belle heated the kettle on a little wood stove as she and Killian settled in the small living room, each in a plush armchair. Belle set up a tea tray and placed cups in front of each of them, pouring the water over tea bags and settling into her own place on the couch, her skirt flowing gracefully as she moved. 

 

“So what brings you this way?” Belle asked, stirring her tea and adding a cube of sugar. Killian leaned forward and set his forearms on his knees, his fingers fiddling with his hook.

 

“I wish I could just say it was for a visit, love, but I’m afraid it’s business.” His tone was serious and every drop of color left Belle’s face. Emma sat more rigid at her change in expression, setting her own teacup back down on the coffee table.

 

“Weaver?” she asked on a shaky whisper and Emma was suddenly on very high alert. Killian reached forward and touched Belle’s hands where they had begun shaking around her teacup, removing the china from her grasp and setting it next to Emma’s. 

 

“He hasn’t found you, love, nothing to worry about,” Hook told her firmly, grasping her hand once more. Belle let out a shaky breath, offering them both a tight, embarrassed smile and a brief chuckle. She nodded and rearranged herself on the couch, clearly trying to shake off some of her lingering nerves. Hook turned his attention to Emma, who had been watching the whole exchange with rapt attention. “Swan, do you remember the night we met, you were trying to take something from me, aye?” Emma felt her face heat again in embarrassment and fury. Her eyes darted to Belle, who didn’t look surprised at all and Emma didn’t know whether to be grateful for her lack of reaction or offended. She looked back to Killian and nodded. “And you had absolutely no idea what it was?”

 

“Not a single clue,” she replied, unwilling to divulge that she was associated with Gold once in any way in the presence of this woman who was clearly in hiding from him.

 

“It was a GPS device. It tracked a chip that used to reside with the lovely Miss French here,” Hook explained and Emma's head snapped back in the brunette’s direction. She was absentmindedly rubbing at a pink scar at the base of her wrist, and Emma assumed that was where the chip was.

 

“Why?” Emma asked, her heart breaking for the frightened woman. Her gaze turned back to Killian's again. “Why is he so desperate to find her again?” 

 

“Belle was his wife,” Hook ground out the last word as if it tasted bad in his mouth. Emma's eyes widened in shock and Belle cleared her throat. Killian ducked his head, allowing her the opportunity to tell her own story.

 

“‘Wife’ is a bit of a strong word. My father owed him a debt. He took me as payment,” she said softly, picking at the blue cotton of her skirt as she made her admission. Emma felt rage on her behalf.  _ How many women had he done this to? _

 

“Belle,” Emma sat forward and spoke carefully, but her tone was serious enough to have Belle's eyes finally come up to meet hers again. “Has he taken any other wives before, since, or during your time with him? There are a lot of girls missing right now that are tied to him. I'm trying to help them.” Belle shook her head adamantly. 

 

“It was just me. And Milah, before me,” she looked to Killian sympathetically. “Just us two. The girls he trades do usually owe him some kind of debt, though.”

 

Emma's breath completely evaporated from her lungs.

 

“The girls he trades?” she squeaked out and even Killian was sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes darkened in interest. It was clear this was all news to him as well.

 

“Well, yeah, the trafficking ring. Didn't you know?” Belle looked between the two of them, confused. Emma could only gape at her.

 

“No, lass, I'm afraid we didn't,” Hook murmured, his voice dark and dangerous. Belle’s cheeks colored and she began fiddling with her skirt again. 

 

“If you want to save those girls, you're running out of time,” Belle said quietly with a sorrowful resignation. 

 

“Belle, please,” Emma moved from her armchair to the couch and the other woman looked up at her, tears brimming in her eyes, “please, if you know anything, I really need your help.  _ They _ really need your help, all these women that have been taken from their homes and families. Help me help them.”

 

Emma reached out and touched her arm gently, her eyes still shining with urgency. After a moment or two, Belle exhaled a shaky breath and nodded, giving Emma a soft half smile. 

 

“Alright.”

 

The single word of assent was the biggest breakthrough Emma had gotten thus far, and none of it would have been remotely possible without Killian Jones. Whatever had set the two of them on their collision course towards one another, she would be eternally grateful. 

 

The scent of jasmine crept up around her for the first time that day and Emma inhaled deeply, a smile spreading over her lips and she knew in that moment that justice was within her grasp. For Belle. For Milah. For all of them. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! So this chapter is coming to you a couple of days late, and for that, I truly apologize. Real life got super crazy and I wasn't able to finish until this morning. But! That being said, I hope you guys like this chapter. Some interesting things are happening here that will be important later on, but not as important as what is going to be happening next chapter. This is kind of a lead in to that. Thank you thank you as always to my wonderful, patient, amazing beta @kmomof4 and thank you as well to the ever lovely @courtorderedcake who made the amazing artwork for this fic. And thanks to you, all my lovely readers!! I love hearing from y'all and you give this story life. Truly, thanks to every one of you. Here we go with chapter 18!

The information that they had gotten from Belle was invaluable. Emma could hardly believe they’d had this big of a break. She knew the inner workings of the entire operation, along with what Hook already knew about Gold and his dangerous associates. Gold was obsessed with Belle during his three years with her, bringing her everywhere with him on the compound and she picked up many things along the way in her never ending quest to escape.

 

Peter Malcolm, the weasley little skinny kid she had run into at Gold's place, he ran the operation fully. Gold backed it with finances and connections in the shipping industry, but the operation was very clearly Malcolm’s. His right hand man, none other than one Felix Perdu, ran security on the op, keeping things locked up tight. Hook had information on shipping times, locations, schedules, and they cross referenced it with where they knew Malcolm was working to pinpoint exactly when the shipment was going down. 

 

Friday. 4:00 am. Three days to prepare.

 

After they had discussed business, Belle was visibly shaken, her face pale, hands trembling, and she made a very obvious excuse to escape the situation once they were done by beginning to clean up the tea. Killian excused himself to the bathroom and Emma felt like she should be doing  _ something _ , so she followed Belle to the wash basin in the corner, carrying the one cup she left behind.

 

“Anything I can do to help?” she asked, approaching Belle slowly as one would a frightened animal. Belle flashed her an all too brief smile before looking back to where she was rinsing the dishes out.

 

“Oh, no Emma, you don’t need to. Here, let me,” she offered, and reached for the teacup with shaking hands. During the transfer, the fragile porcelain cup was lost to Belle’s tremulous grip and began plummeting towards the floor. Immediately the two women grabbed for it, bobbling it between them to save the cup. As they regained control of it, an encounter slammed into Emma out of nowhere.

 

The scent of roses in perfume form swirled around her, along with the smell of something like an old, musty book. It was a pleasant mixture, just enough to be noticeable, and soft words whispered into Emma’s mind in the same accent as Belle’s.

 

_ Missed you, my girl. Love you. So proud. _

 

Emma’s breath caught.

 

“Emma?” Belle prompted, and Emma’s eyes snapped back to hers with the word. She realized then that her hand was resting on the counter where a keyring sat, completely frozen. There was a small charm on one of the rings that looked like it belonged on a bracelet rather than a key ring, just a pretty blue bead. “Are you alright?” she asked again, caution weighing heavily in her words. Emma swallowed thickly and nodded. She began to lift her hand when the voice sounded in her head again.

 

_ Please tell her _ .

 

Belle continued to watch her, as if she wasn’t sure if she was alright or not truly, the teacup still clamped in her hands. Emma was torn. She felt raw panic claw at her throat at the thought of telling Belle, who had been through so much already, and losing progress because Emma seemed like a crazy person. She could potentially damage the relationship Belle and Killian had as well. It was clear Belle didn’t trust easily, but she did trust Killian, and if he was responsible for bringing a crazy person into her home, how much further would she extend that trust? But Killian had urged her to tell that store clerk…

 

“ _ You can’t expect people to believe you if you never tell anyone, _ ” his words from the other day echoed in her memory and Emma took in a deep shuddering breath, taking her palm off of the keys but reaching out to touch the charm with one finger of the same hand.

 

“What’s this?” Emma asked softly. Belle’s eyes fell to where Emma was touching the little blue bead and looked back up to her in confusion. 

 

“It was a part of one of my mother’s favorite necklaces. She passed when I was seventeen. It broke, but I couldn’t let it go, so I keep the bead there instead,” Belle replied with a soft, wistful smile, relaxing slightly. Emma swallowed hard. Now or never.

 

“I need to tell you something,” she began and Belle looked back up at her warily. “It is going to sound… completely looney tunes, but please, hear me out.” Belle stood in silence, placing the teacup with the others in the basin. She nodded for Emma to continue. Emma let out a shaky sigh. “Okay. So. I, uh, I have this…  _ talent _ that I’ve had pretty much my whole life. And I don’t know why it happens, or when it’s going to, but it just did, just now, so here it is. I am a medium. I talk to spirits.”

 

Belle just stared at her, big doe eyes wide as she blinked at Emma’s words. 

 

So, she continued. “When I touch certain things that belonged to someone who has, er,  _ passed on _ , I have sort of like an encounter with them? I don’t know how to explain it.” She sighed and her fingers came up to tug at the ends of her ponytail. “Look, what I’m trying to say is your mom just contacted me. And she says that she missed you. And she loves you and is very proud of you. She kinda smells like… roses? Maybe like paper? If that has a scent. Like the smell you get in a library.”

 

She was rambling now, and Belle just kept staring, and  _ god dammit _ this is  _ exactly _ what she wanted to avoid. Belle thought she was nutso, and she’s going to kick them out and Killian will never forgive her, and  _ this  _ is what she gets for taking risks.  _ This _ is what happens when you tell people about this stuff.

 

And then Belle choked out a sob. Or maybe it was a laugh. Or both? Emma looked up, startled from her panic. Belle’s hands were cupped together over her mouth, and there were definite tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. Emma could tell by the crinkle at the corners of her eyes and the way her cheeks lifted. It was confirmed when she pulled her hands away from her mouth.

 

“She’s here? Now?” she whispered and Emma nodded lamely, now the silent one, unsure of herself still. “Would you… I mean can you talk back to them? Can you give her a message?”

 

Emma blinked at her. Of all the possible outcomes, she never would have pictured Belle (or anyone, ever) being so open and accepting to what she had just revealed. 

 

“Uh, she can hear… I don’t have to…” she stumbled over her words, trying to formulate a single English sentence in response. Belle’s face lit up further.

 

“I always knew she was here, keeping an eye on things. I knew it. I could feel her,” she told Emma excitedly, grabbing one of her hands, then turning to face the empty room. “Mom? I love you, too, and I’m so glad you found Emma. I miss you.” 

 

Belle turned back again with a deep sigh and beamed at Emma before pulling her into a fierce hug. For a moment, the mousy, distrustful woman who had greeted them at the door was gone and grateful exuberance poured off the shorter woman in waves. Emma returned the hug one armed, hand still in place, finger on the bead and there was a surge of the perfume, as if Belle’s mother was trying to show affection as well. Emotion clogged up in Emma’s chest and she coughed, giving Belle a tight smile as she pulled away. A soft hemming sound came from the doorway to the bedroom and bathroom area and Emma looked over to see Killian watching the scene intently.

 

“I think it’s time we head on our way, love,” he said softly, a smile tugging at his lips, and Emma knew just from the look in his eye that he had overheard most, if not all, of that whole exchange. Emma nodded her agreement and they said their goodbyes, more fierce hugs from Belle being their parting gift. 

 

Emma found her hand firmly grasped in Killian’s as they made their way back to the car, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t speak when they got in the car either, remaining silent all the way up until they got to the old tree where their phones were safely stored. He got out of the car without a word and Emma wondered if he was angry with her for telling Belle. Well, she was going to find out.

 

She got out of the car, slamming the door as he fiddled with the box, causing his head to pop up and his blue eyes to seek her out as she crossed the street. Jasmine began to spike around her but Emma ignored it, along with the voice in her head.

 

_ Patience. _

 

Yeah, right.

 

“What the hell is your problem?” she snapped and Killian’s eye widened before an amused twinkle took up residence there.

 

“I wasn’t aware I had a problem, love. Care to elaborate?” He resumed opening the box and retrieved their phones from inside, slipping them both into his jacket pocket. 

 

“You tell me to start telling people about this… this…  _ thing _ that happens to me, and now you’re giving me the silent treatment? Belle was happy about it!” she said, her irritation rising at the impassive look on his face. He took a step forward. She took one back. He sighed.

 

Abruptly, he turned on his heel and walked back to the tree. Once he made sure the lockbox was once again secure in its location, he turned and marched back towards her. When he got close, though, he didn’t stop and Emma took another step back involuntarily, stumbling. Before she could fall, Killian’s hooked arm shot out and looped around her waist, pulling her to the hard planes of his body and she gasped at the contact. He chuckled low in his throat, which incensed her further.

 

“What is so funny?” she asked and his arm drew tighter around her.

 

“You,” he said simply and she snorted, struggling against his grip to right herself, but he held her fast. “Emma, you are a marvel, love. You surprise me. Just when I think I have you figured out, you do something like that. You’re easy to read, in most cases. An open book, as it were. But I thoroughly enjoy the moments when you do surprise me.”

 

“Oh,” she said, a little lamely, and she felt her face heat.

 

“Oh,” he repeated with a quirked brow, moving a loose strand of her hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. He studied her in silence for a moment, his eyes flitting over every inch of her face before settling on her slightly parted mouth. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he said resolutely, and all rational thought flew from Emma’s mind. He dipped his head down, just brushing his lips over hers, then pressed in firmly, his hand sliding up to the back of her neck with ease. Neither of them made a move to deepen the kiss, just stood and savored the tender moment between them. 

 

When he pulled away, Emma didn’t expect to see confusion written all over his face. Her own brow furrowed at the sight.

 

“Are you wearing perfume?” he asked.

 

“Uh… no? I don’t even think I have perfume with me. Why?”

 

“I smell something… flowery. Like something I used to know… I can’t explain it…” he trailed off, searching the depths of his mind to place what he was smelling, his hand still wrapped firmly around the nape of her neck. Emma inhaled deeply and she knew.

 

“Jasmine?” Emma whispered, watching him come to realization. He nodded slowly, lifting his head and one word left his lips that chilled Emma to her core.

 

“ _ Milah _ …”

 

Emma couldn’t speak. This had never happened before. Was Killian having his own encounter? Or was this because of his contact with her? Or was Milah a special spirit who was able to reach beyond the normal restraints of cosmic boundaries? There were so many things running through her mind that she couldn’t explain. Killian looked just as stricken as she felt. She didn’t know how far this extended, but, with Killian, she was willing to find out.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we're already at chapter 19!! Ok, so this chapter. We get super feelsy and some stuff goes down. And some steaminess (finally amirite lol) and revelations. Things are leading to the end! Just a few chapters left! I'm thinking 3-4 more max. So things are really in full throttle here :D many many thanks to my wonderful beta @kmomof4 (whom I may have killed with this chapter lol) and to @courtorderedcake who is the disgustingly talented artist who created the art for this fic that I love so so much. And thank you so much to anyone who still reads this thing, y'all make my day with every comment, reblog, like, so thank you, truly, to anyone reading this still. Y'all are amazing. Ok! New chapter! Let's go!

Emma was the one to take Killian’s hand when she got out of the car, though she was sure he would have followed her anywhere she went at this point, hauling him straight into the office and pushing him into his chair. He loosed a grunt upon impact, but Emma didn’t pay any attention to him, instead flopping her bag on the desk and beginning to dig through it.

 

“If you wanted it rough, darling, all you had to do was ask,” he said, adjusting himself and watching her move around. 

 

“Okay, so, don’t freak out, but I want to try something,” she said breathlessly, dragging the other chair around the desk in front of him. “Remember the shirt? The first contact I had with Milah? I have it here.” She thrust the bag towards him and he looked inside. His head popped up when he saw the fabric within the zippered compartment of her satchel.

 

“Emma…” he said on a heavy exhale. She chewed on her lip and brushed a few strands of hair from her face, not meeting his eyes.

 

“I know this sounds crazy, but I just… I just want to see… fuck, this is so stupid, maybe I shouldn’t have- you know what, just forget it. It’s too much and I don’t even know-” Her rambling was cut short by the feel of his strong, calloused fingers gripping her hand and squeezing. She turned her gaze up to meet him, and the hope and trust shining in his eyes almost knocked her on the floor.

 

“Do it. I want to. Please, Emma,” he said, voice quiet but firm. Emma blew out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, her eyes wide, fear running rampant through her gaze, but she held onto his hand like a lifeline. She sat, trying to get her nerves under control, wiping her hands on her jeans to rid them of the fine layer of sweat that they had developed once he released her grip. He reached into the bag and pulled the shirt free, a shaky sigh escaping his lips.

 

“She loved flowers,” he murmured, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. “She wore a lot of shirts like this, but this one was of her favorites. Never thought I’d see it again,” he admitted and looked up from his hands to meet her gaze again, extending the clothing to her in an offering of faith and trust in her and Emma could do nothing more than wordlessly reach for the garment and grip it tight.

 

The encounter was gentler than she thought it would be, considering the first encounter with Milah had been so intense, letters swimming through her head and whispers loud enough to drown out everything around her. It wasn’t like that this time. But this time, she could see. 

 

A woman came into focus, dark ringlets bouncing around her face, blue grey eyes alive with amusement and wonder. She wasn’t transparent, or glowing, or any other cliche ghost thing. It was like seeing someone on TV but right in front of her. Like a hologram, without the light.  She knew she wouldn't be able to touch the woman, her hand likely to go right through her, but there she was, all the same. Emma took a deep breath in and got swept up in the fragrant jasmine in the air around her.

 

“ _ Hey, Emma, _ ” she said with a smile. “ _ It’s so good to talk to you face to face. I didn’t think we would ever get this chance _ .”

 

“Milah. I didn’t expect this to be so...uh…”

 

“ _ Vivid? _ ” she finished for her, walking towards where Emma sat in the chair before Killian. She looked at the man fondly, sweeping her fingers over where his hair was, her fingers slipping right through where the strands lay as if they weren’t there at all. Which, they kinda weren’t. But a shiver went through Killian’s body all the same.

 

“What’s happening? What’s she saying?” Killian asked, his eyes settling back on Emma’s face.

 

“ _ Oh, Killian. So impatient, agrà, _ ” Milah chuckled and Emma let out a disbelieving laugh of her own. Killian's brow furrowed and Emma shook her head, stupid smile still in place. 

 

“Ah, she says you're impatient. I can  _ see _ her, Killian. She's… she's right next to you,” Emma said in a watery voice, wholly overwhelmed by this entire experience already. Killian sat up straighter, eyes darting around the room. 

 

“I don't think you'll be able to see her, Killian,” Emma said, a note of sadness in her tone, and Killian stopped his search, face falling slightly. He nodded and blew out a breath. 

 

“How does she look? Is… is she alright?” he asked anxiously. 

 

“Yeah, she looks good. She can hear you, you know,” Emma urged and Milah gave her a soft smile. 

 

“Milah,  _ God _ , I…” he began but faltered, looking back to Emma for guidance. “What do I say to her?” Emma was taken aback by his plea for help. 

 

“I don't know, I haven't done this before either! Just talk to her, I guess. Say what's on your mind.”

 

“Right, right. Okay.” He breathed another deep breath, seemingly calming himself, and Emma mirrored him. 

 

“I miss you,” he said, almost a whisper and a crack formed in Emma's heart that cut deeper than she'd like to admit. 

 

“ _ I miss you too, agrà. More than you could know. Please, please stop this madness with your thirst for revenge. Get out of this world, _ ” Milah said and Emma's throat tightened as she watched the spirit’s hands hover over his hunched form.

 

Emma cleared her throat before speaking, but the tightness remained. “She, uh, she says she misses you too. More than you know. And she is asking you not to seek revenge anymore. She said she wants you to get out of this world,” Emma relayed and Killian looked positively indignant. She reached out immediately to soothe him, her left hand touching his lightly, the other still clasped tightly around the shirt.

 

“ _ Agrà, _ ” Milah murmured and Killian froze. His lips parted on a sharp inhale, his features draining of color in an instant.

 

“Killian?” Emma asked softly, moving to pull away from where she touched him but his hand shot out like lightning, gripping her own tight. Emma looked to their joined hands to Milah, then back to him. As tight as his grip was, she could still feel him shaking. It was like he'd seen a ghost. Or…

 

“I heard her,” he whispered, nearly inaudible. Emma's mind went completely blank. This had  _ never _ happened before. “Emma, I heard her. She said…” he broke off on a chuckle that seemed to bubble from his mouth of its own accord. “She said ‘ _ agrà _ ’. I heard her. I heard Milah’s voice. I… I…” he faltered for any sort of word, shaking his head incredulously.

 

“Milah, say something else,” Emma urged, keeping her eyes on Killian and tightening her own grip around his hand.

 

“ _ You're meant for so much greater, Killian. You are not defined by your losses. Please don't do this. _ ” Milah was earnest, the pain on her face at being so close to Killian and being unable to touch him was almost tangible. Killian looked similarly frustrated and hurt, but there was an underlying layer of joy and wonder that she'd only seen from him one other time. When he'd kissed her the first time. Emma's heart broke for them both just a little.

 

“Milah, I can't, he is a  _ monster _ ,” he growled and Emma inhaled sharply at his direct acknowledgement of the spiritual presence. “He took you from me, he took my hand, he took  _ everything _ and he cannot be allowed to remain unpunished.”

 

“ _ It's not your place, agrà. Let Emma take care of it. She can keep you safe. She can save you, Killian. _ ” Milah’s murmured words had Killian's eyes snapping back towards Emma's. There was still pain there, so much emotion, but there was a softness now as well. Emma only got a glimpse before his expression sealed up tight. His jaw tightened and he looked away. 

 

He didn't acknowledge anything Milah had said, instead responding with, “I love you, Milah. I'm sorry for everything.” He unfurled his fingers from Emma's, patting them lightly where they rested on her jean covered knee before releasing them altogether and breaking his connection to Milah.

 

Milah and Emma sighed almost simultaneously. Emma could feel her soft eyes on her now and she turned her own gaze up to meet them. 

 

“ _ I can't stay, Emma. Killian will come around. I hope it's not too late. Can I ask something of you? _ ”

 

“Yeah, Milah, whatever you need,” Emma replied over the tightness in her own throat.

 

“ _ Take care of him. More than that, let him take care of you, too. There's something here between you that goes deeper than even you know. It could be something really special, if you let it. Don't be afraid to feel. I'll be around.”  _ Milah smiled softly at Emma and turned her gaze back to Killian. This was a goodbye for her, a hell of a one at that, and Emma felt like she had been sucker punched in the gut. Who knew when or if this would or could ever happen again. She couldn't take her eyes off of Milah even as she faded from sight without another word. She continued to stare at the spot where she had just stood trying in vain to process what the spirit had just told her. 

 

“She's gone, isn't she?” Killian's voice brought her away from her panic stricken fog and she nodded. He nodded in turn, a soft, sad smile quirking his lips. He looked up at her then, unshed tears making his eyes sparkle.

 

“That was the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me. You… you are  _ amazing _ , love, just incredible,” he said, his voice cracking in and out of a whisper. “Has that ever happened before?”

 

“No,” Emma answered in a whisper of her own. “None of these things have. I shouldn't have been able to draw you so well, I shouldn't have these extended encounters with your loved ones, I've  _ never  _ seen a spirit during an encounter in person, and no one has ever heard them because we touched. I don’t know why these things keep happening with you. It’s like we’re… like we’re  _ connected _ somehow, on this deeper level, or something. I don’t know!” She threw her hands in the air before burying her face in them. She felt a gentle hand grasp at her wrist and tug it away from her face after a moment. Killian's blue eyes bored into her, a heat and an intensity that touched her physically, making goosebumps scatter over her flesh. And then he spoke, low, husky, his voice the very thing sin was made from.

 

“I don’t believe in fairy tales and ghost stories, Swan. I don’t believe in soulmates, or true love, or happy endings, especially not for me. I am a villain in this tale, after all, and villains don’t get happy endings. But I do believe in you. Whatever just happened here was real. And I believe whatever is here between you and I, it’s real, and it’s true, and it’s so deep it scares me. You are something magical, love.”

 

She couldn't have stopped herself if she tried, though Milah's words made her want to jump in her bug and never come back. Despite that, she leaned forward, watching the caution in Killian's features slowly melt away as he realized her intent. She pressed her lips lightly against his before pulling back and looking into his eyes again, gauging his response. She saw the same heat there, only intensified, looking back at her from the carefully schooled mask he had in place. 

 

So she did it again.

 

Something inside Killian snapped in that instant and his hand plunged into her hair as he sealed his mouth over hers. The strands pulled on his rings against where her elastic secured her thick locks on the crown of her head so she reached up to undo it with both hands. He took advantage of her raised arms and as soon as her curls tumbled free down her back, he looped his hooked arm around her back, hauling her out of her chair and pressing their torsos tightly together. 

 

Emma moved her legs to frame Killian's thighs, essentially straddling him as he reached down to thumb the notch in her chin and open her lips to his questing and insistent tongue. The first hot lick into her mouth had her groaning and sinking into him further, her own hands snaking up to tangle in his thick, dark locks, pulling him closer and returning his kiss with just as much fervor. 

 

He held her tight to him, a soft, breathless gasp of her name escaping his lips when they pulled apart for air that had her jumping right back in. His hand was everywhere, tracing the edge of her jaw, sifting through her hair, stroking the column of her throat and skimming down her arm before plunging back into her golden mane. He held her like she would disappear if he let go, and she knew in part that was thanks to the encounter. Too many people had just disappeared on him, just as they had her. The thought of him clinging to her like some sort of life preserver should have sent her running for the hills but it just sent her diving deeper into him, clutching at him just as desperately.

 

Lust and a want so intense it burned her from the inside out flared through her veins. When his hand slipped under the hem of her shirt and touched the bare skin of her back, she whimpered into his mouth, which in turn had him pressing up into her curves. She could feel his own want for her in the solid outline of his erection through their jeans and wetness pooled between her thighs at the thought of him being connected to her in every way. She had to stop herself from grinding down on him like a cat in heat.

 

Somewhere in the back of her conscious mind, through the thick haze of  _ want _ that had infiltrated her being, Emma heard the tinny jingling of a generic ringtone echoing out into the room. She ignored it, pressing herself further into Killian’s embrace, sweeping her tongue over his own like it was the last thing she would ever do. She never wanted it to stop. But no sooner did the chirping from the phone stop than did it start up again and Killian was pulling away.

 

“Emma, love,” he panted, voice husky and deep, still stealing kisses from her lips as she tried to press forward like he couldn’t stop himself. “Fucking  _ hell _ , your phone, it could be your contact. Much as I’m enjoying this, and  _ believe me _ , I am.” He flexed his fingers into her hip, pulling her tight against his lap where his arousal was now more than a little prevalent, pulling a moan from Emma, which in turn pulled a shudder from himself. “I don’t fancy a police raid because they couldn’t reach you.”

 

The phone stopped ringing, then started up again and Emma squeezed her eyes shut on a groan. Clambering off of Killian’s lap, her hair wild where he had been running his hand through it, she snatched her phone from where it lay on the table in the corner and jammed her finger viciously into the answer button.

 

“Yeah,” she snapped.

 

“Hey, Nolan. Long time.”

 

Emma felt something swell up inside her at the sound of the voice on the other end of the line. Several emotions all balled into one, the most prominent of them being joy and relief, and she could barely get her voice above an awestruck whisper. 

 

“Graham.”

  
  



	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright party people, this is a day late and I'm really sorry. The reason we are a little behind schedule (this time, lbr I'm not the most timely poster anyways lol) is because my ever lovely beta @kmomof4 requested (demanded lol) that I not end this chapter on a cliffhanger so I added an extra 1200 or so words to this sucker lol. You can thank/blame her accordingly :P the biggest thanks and love to her for being an amazing beta on this little ditty. And also huge thanks to @courtorderedcake who deserves all the love for the fantastic art she made for this piece! We have only a couple chapters left and I love it as much now as I did when I first saw it. And thanks to anyone still reading this thing. I really hope y'all like this chapter! I'm aiming for about 2 more but ya never know cuz I don't know how to use a word count haha. Happy reading!

 

“I can't believe it's really you,” Emma said, running a hand through her tangled hair to try and tame it slightly. Killian was already out of his chair and adjusting himself, taking note of the seriousness of the conversation. It seemed he was good at reading the general vibe of any given situation and Emma was grateful for that. “Are you okay? Are you back on the desk? God, Graham, I'm so sorry about sending you out there, I-”

 

“Hey, hey, no, Emma, this was  _ not _ your fault. If anything, it was  _ mine _ ,” Graham cut her off in that lilting Irish tone she'd become so familiar with. She didn't know how much she'd missed her friend until this very moment. “I'm okay though. It was a straight shot, clean through. Nicked my lung though, so the queen still has me on leave.”

 

“So you just decided to call me in the middle of an undercover op? I mean, I'm really glad to hear your voice and that you're okay, but, what the hell, Graham?”

 

“Calm down, I talked to Jefferson first. I was worried about you. You're my partner and you've got no one with you, and Gold is… well, you know,” he said, his voice almost trembling when he mentioned Gold. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

 

“I am. Really,” Emma insisted. 

 

“Really? Because Jefferson told me some concerning things. What's this about an explosion and you working with some other guy? That doesn't sound safe to me,” he said, his tone slightly accusatory. Emma bristled. She could feel Killian's eyes on her, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was eavesdropping. 

 

“I'm overwhelmed by your faith in me,” she snarked. “I'm really fine. In fact, I'm closer than we've ever been to wrapping this up. So thanks for your concern, but I've got this. You should get some rest.” Emma was anxious to end this line of questioning but Graham kept pushing.

 

“I've done nothing but rest for the last three weeks. What does Mills think about all of this?” he asked straight out. Emma swallowed hard.

 

“Uh…” she struggled for the right words. “This is more of a side angle I'm working. Not… not anything really to concern her with just yet. It's fine. Jeff and I, we've got this under control.”

 

“So she doesn't even know. Damn, Emma, you've taken a lot of risks over the years but I've never known you to be outright stupid,” Graham said sharply and Emma felt her own righteous indignation build up in the pit of her stomach.

 

“Watch yourself, Graham. If there's one thing I'm not, it's stupid.”

 

“This whole idea is stupid. Stupid and dangerous. You already have a target on your back. He tried to get rid of you once. You want him to finish the job?”

 

“I can take care of myself.”

 

“I think I should talk to Regina about this, Emma. You clearly don't know when you're in over your head,” he said, his tone softening a little bit, but the bottom fell straight out of Emma's stomach.

 

“You wouldn't dare,” she hissed and she felt Killian moving around behind her. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he placed his hand on her shoulder. When she turned to meet his eyes, she could see the irritation and concern swirling in their depths. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile and turned her attention back to what Graham was saying.

 

“This is about your safety, Emma. Life and death. Gold can make anyone he wants disappear. Hell, he almost blew you up for chrissakes! Not to mention…” he cut himself off and cleared his throat. “He isn't someone you want to piss off, Emma, and it sounds like you've already done that.”

 

“I'll go dark, Graham. I swear to God, if you do this, I'll finish this op blind and I'll turn in my badge when it's done. My life is no less important than the lives of these girls we're trying to save,” she said, and she even surprised herself at the conviction in those words. She, of course, never valued her life above anyone else's, but the fact that she was willing to give up the job she loved to see this op through? That made her a little dizzy and more than a little scared out of her ever loving mind.

 

Graham sighed heavily, his breath crackling through the phone line. While she waited for his response, a large hand settled on her shoulder, making her jump slightly. Looking up at Killian's face, she found it creased with concern, his expressive dark brows sitting heavily over his eyes. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile as he began to rub small circles into her shoulder. 

 

“Nolan, this isn't right. There are things you- things  _ we _ don't know about Gold. There's gotta be another way to get this done,” Graham said and Emma huffed. 

 

“You got another idea on what to do in the next three days? Because that's my window,” she snapped. This had gone so off the rails that Emma felt like a caged animal and Graham was about to lock up the kennel. The only thing keeping her from completely losing it and doing something rash was Killian's warmth behind her.

 

“I don't know, Emma, but we have to figure something else out. You don't have the resources to pull this off,” he replied.

 

“I have more than enough resources. You know better than anyone that I can do this. Just give me to the end of the week. That's what Jeff and I talked about,” she rebuffed. Graham was quiet again on the other end.

 

“I gotta talk to Jeff about this again, Emma. I don't feel right letting you go into the fire on your own.”

 

“That's not your call to make, Graham,” she shot back. “Jeff and I already decided and you're putting me in more danger than if you would just keep your damn nose out of it. And I'm not alone.” She glanced at Killian over her shoulder from the corner of her eye. He suppressed a smirk, dipping his head down to place a firm kiss on her shoulder before walking back to his desk to rifle through the drawers. Goosebumps prickled the back of her neck at the familiarity of the motion.  _ How did they get here? _

 

“This was my op, too, Emma.”

 

“But it's not anymore. Go talk to Jeff if you need to. I've gotta go,” she said.

 

“Alright, Emma. Be safe.”

 

The call ended, leaving Emma standing with a full brain and a heavy heart. She wasn't really sure what Graham was planning on doing. 

 

“Your contact?” Killian asked softly from across the room.

 

Emma shook her head. “Partner. He's been on leave.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it, love?” he asked as she studied her phone, contemplating her next move.

 

“Nope,” she replied, stuffing her phone in her pocket and shaking out her limbs. When she turned around, he had laid out the map to the shipping yard, as if he anticipated her need to distract herself. She'd known the man for only about a week now and it was remarkable at times how well he could read her. 

 

She wasn't ready to deal with the potential fallout. She wasn't ready to call Jefferson and hear that he agreed with Graham, especially since he hadn't contacted her at all about having spoken with him in the first place. So, they got down to business instead.

 

For three hours, they plotted out every aspect of the yard, entry points, exit points, likely presences, what if scenarios. Emma was on edge, whether it was from the conversation with Graham or the ever present tension between the two of them, but they pushed through into the night. Emma soon couldn't stifle the yawns coming more and more frequently from her lips. Hook snapped a binder shut, making her jump in her half asleep stupor. 

 

“Alright, darling. Off to bed with you. We can finish this tomorrow and you can talk to your contact and sort out your partner and whatever else you need to.” Killian stood and extended his hand to her, which she took automatically. 

 

As they walked down the hall, she suddenly realized that he was leading her straight to his room. Her stomach did a strange flip flop over the thought of waking up in Killian's arms again. She didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Was she getting in over her head here? What happened when this whole op was all over? 

 

Before she could overthink things too much, he was sitting her on the bed and retrieving sweats for her to change into before disappearing into the bathroom with a set of his own to give her some privacy. She changed quickly, sitting on the edge of the bed to wait for him. Killian exited the bathroom, tucking something into the plain gray t-shirt he now wore, his left wrist hidden by the pocket of the sweats. Emma frowned. She didn't know why, but it made her a little sad to think that he felt the need to hide from her after all they'd been through in their short time together. 

 

He smiled at her, almost shyly, making her heart skip a beat as he made his way around to the other side of the bed. Her heart rate continued to steadily increase as he settled in beside her, flipping the light switch and tugging her under the covers against him in the pitch black of the room. 

 

His arm tucked around her like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Emma felt safe and secure laying in his arms. She decided that there had been enough over thinking for the night and she descended into sleep more quickly than even she thought she would. 

 

The sound of crashing waves around her was familiar. The ocean usually soothed her, but Emma turned in search of a presence she already knew would be there. And he was. 

 

Liam stood nearby, looking out over the side of the ship they were on. Unlike before, this was a naval ship, and Liam was in a stark white uniform. Emma's mouth set into a hard line as he turned towards her. His face was serious, as always, but his eyes held a note of sheepishness she hadn't seen before. 

 

“ _ If you've only come to bitch about me kissing Killian again, you can save it. I've had a really long day and I don't care, _ ” she told him, nipping any complaints he might have had in the bud. Liam smirked, the corner of his mouth ticking up much like Killian's did. 

 

“ _ I haven't come for that, lass. I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have been so harsh, and I'm sorry. _ ” Liam tucked his hands into his pockets and began to walk towards her, stopping a few feet away. 

 

Well, that wasn't what she'd been expecting. She quickly schooled her expression of shock back into something more nonchalant. 

 

“ _ What changed your mind?” _ she asked, trying to keep her voice light. 

 

“ _ When I realized just how deep the connection you and my little brother share actually goes _ ,” he said and Emma couldn't help the disbelieving giggle snort that popped out of her mouth. 

 

“ _ What's that supposed to mean? _ ”

 

“ _ To answer that, I think we should include all parties involved, _ ” he said, causing Emma to furrow her brow in question. Liam only smiled and looked off to one side. “ _ Hello, little brother _ .”

 

Emma whirled around to find Killian standing near a wall to a nearby cabin of sorts, mouth agape and eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. 

 

“ _ Younger brother, _ ” he whispered in absolute awe. 

 

“ _ Oh, I've missed you, Killian _ ,” Liam said with a chuckle, his expression brimming with barely contained pride and joy. He was more relaxed and truly happy than Emma had ever seen him. He looked back to her with a wide smile. “ _ Shall we have that chat now? _ ”

 

“ _ This is a dream. This isn't real, _ ” Killian murmured to himself, still gazing at his older brother with an entire galaxy of stars in his eyes.

 

“ _ It is a dream. I find it's easier to reach Emma this way. But that doesn't make this any less real. You should know that by now, _ ” he chided. Killian took a tentative step forward. Emma continued to stand in silence, utterly stunned by how events kept turning out. 

 

“ _ Liam… I don't… I don't know what to say… my God I've missed you so much, _ ” Killian said, his voice catching on a sob. His entire jaw was trembling with the force of holding back from openly weeping, tears spilling over his lashline and down over his face in steady rivulets. Liam smiled softly at him and moved the three or so steps to close the gap between them, sweeping his brother up in a hug.

 

Killian's arms came up around the other man and he sobbed like a child into his brother's shoulder, his hands gripping at the fabric of Liam's jacket like a lifeline. Emma gasped out loud. 

 

His  _ hands _ .

 

Killian looked up at the sound and his eyes lit up with affection and pure awe when they settled on Emma's form. He pulled back from his brother, glancing between the two of them like he didn't know who to address first. He reached up, sweeping both broad palms over his cheeks as Liam lay an affectionate hand on his brother's shoulder. He froze mid pass, his hands coming in front of him slowly, utter shock painting his features. 

 

“ _ H-how…? _ ” he asked to the open air.

 

“ _ It is still a dream, after all, _ ” Liam supplied. Killian looked over to his brother with such admiration and unabashed elation that Emma's heart swelled to bursting.

 

“ _ I don't think I ever want to wake up _ ,” Killian said with a sniffling laugh. There was lightness to his tone, but Emma could see the truth in what he said as well.

 

“ _ Yes, but we've a fight on our hands, haven't we? _ ” Liam said, his expression slipping back into the stern countenance Emma had come to expect from him. 

 

Killian nodded, head ducked down, avoiding his brother and Emma's gaze both.

 

“ _ Have you figured it out yet? What you're meant to save him from? Why this has to be you? _ ” Liam looked at Emma. Her eyes blew wide and Killian looked at her, searching for an answer as well. She could almost feel the question in his eyes.

 

“ _ Milah said something about him getting out of this life and me helping with that, and I intend to, but Killian has to want that, too, _ ” she said softly, intent on not looking anywhere in Killian's direction. It was difficult, given that Killian hadn't moved more than a foot away from his brother since their reunion. Liam’s lips twitched into a brief, rueful smile.

 

“ _ Aye. But that's not all, and I think you know that. It took me some time to see it as well, but the last encounter you had with Milah confirmed it for me, _ ” he said.

 

“ _ Can we stop with the riddles and puzzles and just speak plainly? _ ” she snapped, irritated that she was still missing whatever point Liam was trying to make here.

 

“ _ ‘Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same’, _ ” Liam replied, clearly quoting something. 

 

“ _ Emily Brontë, _ ” Killian added, looking from his brother, then to Emma, then back again. “ _ Bloody hell, are you saying she's my soulmate? _ ” he nearly screeched and Emma felt the breath whoosh out of her lungs. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears and she wondered briefly if someone could pass out in a dream. She stumbled back to the side of the ship and clutched it to hold herself upright.

 

It all made sense. Why his loved ones could reach out to her unprovoked, why she could draw Killian with such accuracy, why their paths had intertwined without seeking one another out, why Killian could hear and smell Milah's presence, why they were here now. Why she had to save him.  _ Everything _ . 

 

Suddenly, her face was being lifted by two palms cupping her cheeks like she was a fragile, precious thing and she found herself staring into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. All of her worry and reservations seemed to melt away as Killian gazed down on her so fondly she could feel it as plain as his hands caressing her face. 

 

“ _ You… you and I… we… _ ” she stammered, unsure of what to even say when faced with all of this.

 

“ _ Soulmates _ ,” he whispered.

 

“ _ You don't believe in soulmates. Or ghosts, _ ” she said shakily.

 

“ _ But I do believe in you, _ ” he said and then he was crashing into her with the force of a tidal wave. Their lips connected like some unseen primal force was driving them to fit so perfectly together. His lips slid over hers, his tongue reaching out to ask for entrance nearly immediately. When she granted it, he dove in with fervor, tasting and massaging every surface of her mouth. 

 

Stars exploded behind her eyes, her arms slipping around his neck to pull him closer. They staggered and swayed with the force of the kiss, each pulling the other in a tug of war of sheer soul-deep connection. Killian kissed Emma until she didn't know where she began and he ended.

 

They were slow to drift apart, both breathing the other’s air, eyes connected with a fire that hadn't been there before, something that only solidified the connection between them both. A throat cleared somewhere in their periphery, causing them to sheepishly release each other (mostly) from the embrace they were wrapped in to face a very red faced Liam Jones. 

 

There was a smile on his face when he spoke, though. “ _ We don't have much time, I'm afraid.” _

 

Emma felt Killian's grip tighten on her waist and every muscle in his body tensed up. He knew what was coming. Emma looked up at him, her hand rubbing soothing circles into his back. He drug his gaze from his brother's form and gave her a grateful smile, kissing her forehead and releasing her entirely to walk to his brother.

 

They regarded one another for a long moment before Liam reached up and tousled Killian's messy hair, causing the younger brother to swat his hands away. They both laughed, rich and warm and embraced again. They both knew what this was.

 

“ _ Remember, Killian. A man unwilling to fight for what he wants-” _

 

“ _ -deserves what he gets. Aye, brother, I remember. _ ” Killian smiled and clapped his brother on his shoulder. Liam reached up and squeezed his opposite shoulder. 

 

“ _ Just remember what's worth fighting for. I love you, Killian. You're a good man. _ ”

 

“ _ Love you, too, Li. And I know what's important _ ,” Killian replied looking back over his shoulder to Emma. She flushed under his gaze and his smile broadened.

 

When he looked back, Liam was gone.

 

He let out a shaky sigh and made his way back to Emma to stand in front of her. His hands came up automatically to brush over the skin of her cheeks. When they blinked next, their eyes opened to the dim light of the room, face to face, eyes clearing from sleep in near unison.

 

Killian smiled softly and placed his hand on Emma's cheek, leaning in to press his lips to hers again. She knew in that moment it was real.

  
  



	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm so super sorry I'm behind on my posting schedule with this. If you're reading my other story that's posting right now, you know that my life got crazy around the holidays for a minute and it put me back a little ways. But I'm back in the saddle and I hope this extra long (extra steamy) chapter will make up for my absence! We are coming to a close, unfortunately, only one more chapter and the epilogue left! A huge humongous ginormous thank you to @kmomof4 who is the absolute best and has been the most wonderful beta for this fic I could have asked for. Another gigantic thank you to @courtorderedcake who made the beautiful artwork that accompanies each chapter that I still love so freaking much. Go give that talented lady some love. And thank you so much to everyone still with me reading this crazy thing! I love and appreciate each and every one of you. You guys are really the best and I hope you like the new chapter!

  


The moment their lips separated is when it began to sink in. They weren't touching but it was like there was an electric charge in the thin space between them. Emma could feel Killian's breath wafting out over her cheeks and she was surprised her heart wasn't brushing against his chest with the way it was trying to beat out of hers. Neither of them spoke or moved, they only stared at each other in the dim light coming from the bathroom in silence, both seemingly trying to work out if the other knew that what had happened was real.

 

Seconds ticked by.

 

Maybe minutes.

 

And then Killian moved with the speed, force, and precision of a lightning bolt. He consumed every drop of sanity Emma had left with his hungry kiss, his thumb finding the dimple in her chin and nudging her mouth open so his eager tongue could delve inside. His hand slid along her jaw and into her hair, careful to avoid the tender area, as he kissed her with a passion she'd never experienced before. 

 

It was like her body knew exactly what to do, reaching up to fist her hand in his t-shirt and pull him closer as she responded just as fervently. They moved in perfect sync with one another until Emma felt like she was spinning from the lack of oxygen. Killian's own need for air became too great as well and he wrenched his lips from hers, sucking in precious oxygen as soon as they parted. 

 

He couldn't stop, though, the stubble on his jaw burning against her skin as he kissed a blazing trail from her mouth up to her ear, shifting so he was half hovering over her. His hand still cradled the back of her neck, his fingers twisting and winding through the strands at her nape, sending sparks shooting over every nerve in her body.

 

“Tell me you want this, love,” he whispered huskily into the flesh beneath her ear. “Tell me I can have you. Tell me you want me like I want you.” His voice was desperate, strained, like it would cause him physical harm to be rejected now. Luckily for him, Emma had no such intention. 

 

“Killian, you have no idea how much I want you,” she panted, trying to wriggle a leg underneath him to encourage him to cover her completely with his body. A shudder went through his body and he dipped his head down to press against the side of her neck, fingers tightening in her hair. Whether it was from her words or the brush of her thigh, she didn't care; she was completely addicted to the way he reacted to her already. He growled and sat up, seizing her by the wrist and pulling her with him. His blunted arm wrapped around her waist to hold her steady as he practically ripped the shirt from over her head. 

 

Emma's nipples pebbled in the cool air of the room and his hand crept up over her belly to fit a soft globe in his hand. The second his calloused palm touched bare flesh he flinched back like he'd been burned, making Emma feel a little self conscious. But his hand was back with a vengeance in the next moment, wiping all thoughts of deprecation from her mind as he squeezed firmly. 

 

“God, love, you're trying to kill me,” he murmured against her ear as his hand stroked over her flesh, teasing a nipple, skimming over her side, tracing her collarbone and then going over it all again. “Had I known you weren't wearing a bra, I would have been far less gentlemanly than I prefer.” So  _ that _ was the reason for his reaction. Emma smirked. Killian nipped at her earlobe, then kissed his way down the side of her neck, stopping at the hollow of her throat so that he could suck a dark mark there. 

 

The thought of him branding her as his sent a thrill through her. She should have been petrified; she never let anyone get this close and have it actually mean something. She should definitely be a little more questioning of this whole thing because  _ holy shit  _ this was her  _ soulmate  _ and that was a pretty big deal on a cosmic scale. Emma should be running in the opposite direction, but she was doing none of those things. Right now, she was lost. Lost in sensation, emotion, hunger, desire, lost entirely in Killian's all encompassing presence. Lost in every press of his lips, lost in every growl that ripped from his throat, lost in every brush of his hand, lost, lost, lost. 

 

And there was no turning back now.

 

Especially when Killian leaned down and sucked a pert nipple into the heat of his mouth. Her fingers threaded through his thick, messy locks as he kissed and sucked and nipped his way from one breast to the other, her head thrown back so she could just  _ feel _ . His other arm snaked around her waist and slid down her spine, sending explosions of goosebumps skittering across her skin in its wake. He didn't stop there, slipping beyond the waistband of her borrowed sweats and taking a firm cheek in his broad palm. He grasped her tightly, rolling his hips against hers.

 

“No knickers either? Definitely trying to kill me, Swan,” he groaned and rolled his hips against her again, making her gasp. His lips were slamming back into hers in an instant, his tongue plunging past them to taste every inch of her, pushing her back down to the mattress and settling between her thighs like that was exactly where he belonged. “I've got to see you,” he breathed against her lips, wrenching himself away and diving for the bedside light. He shrugged his own t-shirt off in haste as Emma's eyes adjusted to the light and he rose up on his knees before her in all of his erotically charged glory.

 

Her eyes roamed over him shamelessly, following the expanse of dark curls over his toned chest where they tapered down over his stomach and disappeared into the obvious tent of his sleep pants. His entire torso expanded and contracted with each lungful of air he drew, his eyes alight with a desire and need for her that took her breath away.

 

“You're bloody perfect. Like something from a dream come to life,” he choked out and Emma felt herself flush at the compliment. She'd been called many things in her life, but the sincerity and depth of his words touched her down to the very fiber of her being. It threw her completely off kilter and she decided to take back the reins before this got a lot more involved than it already was.

 

(As if it wasn't already too late for that.)

 

“Not dreaming this time,” she said as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her sweats and shimmied them down her legs, leaving her completely bare before him. His pupils blew wide as he simply tried to take all of her in, his jaw going slack and Emma saw the bulge in his pants give a violent twitch.

 

“I'm even less convinced than before,” he returned, the path of his gaze searing into her as it travelled every inch of her exposed body. He reached out for her with both arms automatically, but stilled when they were almost touching her, instead changing trajectory and flopping down above her, his weight supported by his left arm as he tried to slip it under the blanket, attempting to distract her from the motion by running his hand down her side and leaning in for a kiss. 

 

Emma was having none of it, placing her palms flat on the front of his shoulders and pushing up slightly. He looked confused, a little concerned, and a lot wrecked for her. She only smiled at him softly, leaning up to place a gentle kiss to his lips, more chaste than anything else had been so far that night.  When she reached for his left arm it all clicked into place for him, his eyes going as wide as saucers and his Adam's apple bobbing spasmodically. 

 

Encouraging him to shift his weight onto his other arm, she pulled his left from under the blankets towards her and got her first unobstructed view of his amputation site. It wasn't as bad as she thought it would be, considering Killian's insistent concealment of the limb every time it was uncovered around her. There was some surgical scarring at the end of his wrist, but the skin was soft and unblemished, just a little paler than the rest of him. Killian stared hellfire at the stunted site.

 

“Gold took this from you, too,” she murmured. It was intended as a question but it was too resolute for that. She knew. And he knew that she knew. There was no point in hiding it.

 

“Aye,” he said through his teeth. “For trying to ‘ _ steal _ ’ back my mother's ring.” A flicker of him telling her the one time he tried to retrieve the ring not going well passed through her mind. Emma's heart felt like it was being ripped in two at the pain and shame rolling darkly across his handsome face. She needed to bring him back to her, to stoke the fire of want again. She needed to show him that she didn't find him lacking in the least.

 

Her fingertips were light against his flesh and he refused to meet her eyes as she began to massage the area. His lower lip was starting to tremble, a choked sound escaping his throat when she leaned forward and placed a feather light kiss against his skin. She did it again and he tried to pull from her grip, but Emma only held tighter to him. 

 

“It's okay, Killian,” she soothed. “I'm right here. Not going anywhere.”

 

His eyes snapped to hers when she pulled his blunt wrist against the flesh of her stomach and slowly began to drag it upwards. He wasn't breathing, his eyes flicking between her eyes and where she was slowly dragging his skin against hers. 

 

“ _ Touch _ me, Killian,” she breathed, tugging his arm until he was brushing the underside of her breast, arching into him and letting her eyelids flutter. His lips parted and he sucked in a ragged breath as he took in the motion. Her face held no judgement, only patience, simmering arousal, and something deeper that burned into his very soul that finally broke him. 

 

His lips met hers hard and fast, an audible sob clawing its way from his throat, what little control he'd had left evaporating into thin air. His wrist pressed into her skin, touching everything, everywhere, soon joining his explorations with his mouth. His good hand reached for the waistband of his pants, her hands meeting his to help pull the last barrier away from their bodies. She wanted nothing more than to feel him with her, against her,  _ inside _ her and she wasn't in the mood to wait. 

 

Killian kept the flesh of his left arm pressed tightly into Emma's side, even as he shifted to move his hand over her body, his lips, teeth, and tongue pressing and pulling on hers as he went. When he dipped between her parted thighs to stroke over her center, Emma was sure she was going to explode into a thousand tiny pieces, especially when he groaned a cracked and desperate sound into the curve of her neck.

 

“Bloody  _ hell _ , Emma, you're so ready for me,” he rasped out, dipping two fingers into her core and stroking them slowly in and out of her, his thumb circling her clit in time with them. Emma could only manage a whine in response, her hips lifting and rolling with the rhythm he set as he pulled her higher. Suddenly, his fingers left her and she groaned in complaint, the sound soon gobbled up by Killian descending on her for another kiss. “I'm sorry, darling, I have to be inside you right now. I don't think I'll be able to keep my wits about me if I wait any longer. We'll take our time next time, aye?” he said against her lips. 

 

Emma nodded furiously as his hand and, more hesitantly, his blunted wrist settled on her hips and he lined himself up, sliding home in one steady thrust.

 

“Oh god, yes, Killian, please move,” she begged shamelessly, arching up into him, her entire body aching for  _ more _ . He obliged her immediately, dragging out of her in that same slow, steady pace, but he thrust forward again with a sharp snap of his hips that had them both crying out and clinging to each other. 

 

It was pure bliss, the sensations that washed over Emma. Sparks shot across the back of her eyelids when she blinked. The only sound in the room was that of flesh on flesh, interspersed with sighs and moans from each of them. Emma's eyes fluttered open and immediately locked on to Killian's. He was staring at her with such a burning desire, so deeply connected to her in this moment that she could feel his imprint on every cell in her body. It took her breath away and she couldn't help but reach up and cup his scruffed cheeks in her palms and pull him into another kiss. 

 

Killian's pace picked up and Emma tried to keep up with him, still attaching herself to his mouth as he supported his weight on his elbows on either side of her, his chest hair brushing over her sensitive nipples with every roll of his body, sending electric sparks pulsing through her. Clumsily, she reached down and grasped his hand, locking their fingers together and he squeezed tightly, like he never intended to let her go.

 

“Come for me, agrà,” he growled into her ear and her mind may not have known what that word meant, but her soul did, recognized it on another plane of existence. It was no secret that Killian was a verbose man, and terms of endearment fell freely and often from his lips, but this was something on a profound level, something he associated with the deepest parts of him. He was calling her his love. A title only bestowed upon one woman before her and now it was hers. Her healing his heart, he reaching hers past the iron walls she had constructed around it. It was her. And he needed his own explosive relief with her, his love. His soulmate. She shattered beneath him in compliant ecstasy. 

 

Through the fog of her high, she heard Killian sob out her name as he spilled into her as well, his fingers so tight around hers that she could feel her heartbeat in her fingertips. Their movements slowed, their bodies stuttering through the last blissful pulls of euphoria. Killian rained kisses all over Emma's face, brushing his lips over her forehead, her temple, her nose and eyelids, before finally settling on her own lips for a final scorching kiss.

 

Killian groaned as he lifted himself from Emma's body and lifted her hand to kiss her palm before heading into the bathroom. Emma felt exhaustion tugging at the edge of her mind and by the time Killian returned with a washcloth to clean her cooling skin, she was halfway to sleeping already. Discarding the rag, he slipped back into the bed, his body immediately seeking out his lover's, and they drifted off again in each other's arms, not a word needing to be spoken between them. 

 

Emma awoke the next morning to a feather light kiss brushing over her brow. She stirred slightly, a small hum working from her lips as her eyes fluttered open.

 

“Shh, love, go back to sleep. I'll be back in just a bit to wake you with coffee,” Killian said, brushing some of her hair off of her face. Emma nodded and snuggled further down into the pillows surrounding her head. After a few minutes of lying in silence, Emma knew she'd be getting no more sleep so she peeled her eyes open once more and stretched out her limbs. She was pleasantly sore in a way that she hadn't been in some time. Memories of the previous night flashed through her mind and she was surprised at how much comfort she found in just being free with Killian. 

 

The change they had gone through the night prior was huge for Emma, and she knew it was for Killian as well. Soulmates. She could hardly wrap her head around the notion. Everything was so uncertain. This whole thing with Gold was still up in the air, and even when it was over, Killian lived outside the law. It scared her to think of what might happen when this all came to a close. All she knew was she didn't want to lose him. Not when she'd only just found him. Not ever.

 

Her phone alarm went off from where it was charging next to her bag on the table. She hoisted herself from the bed with only a few grumbles, trudging over to turn it off. And a light bulb went off in her head. She punched the familiar button sequence on her screen with her thumb and pulled the device up to her ear, waiting.

 

“Check in isn't until two, Swan, what's up?” Jefferson's concerned voice came on the line. 

 

“Well, hello to you, too, sunshine,” she quipped back and Jefferson grunted in mock annoyance. “I had an idea, and I wanted to pick your brain on the matter before I had you actually put it into motion.”

 

“Shoot,” he said on a yawn, making Emma stifle her own. 

 

“If someone were a known felon, but they became a major asset to a high profile case, what would their chances be on getting a deal in exchange for their cooperation and testimony?” she asked, tugging nervously on the end of one of her long blonde strands of hair. Jefferson hummed, mulling it over. 

 

“Well, it would depend on what kind of deal we're talking about here.”

 

“No jail time. Probation, preferably. House arrest, max,” she said, eyeing the door carefully in case Killian came back in.

 

“Hmm. And this, uh, ‘known felon’,” he replied indulgently, “wouldn’t be Hook by chance, would it?”

 

Emma was on her guard instantly at the disdain in her colleague's voice. “If it was, would that make any difference?” she snapped back. 

 

“Take it easy, Cujo, I'm just asking. I'm not going to lie to you and tell you I'm not worried about all of this, but I trust your judgement,” Jefferson said in a much softer tone.

 

“Is that why you told Graham what was going on? You gonna go tattle on me to Regina, too?” She couldn't help the bitterness in her voice when she thought of the two men discussing her op like it was a game to her.

 

“What? What the hell are you talking about? I haven't heard from Graham since he got released from the hospital,” Jefferson replied and Emma's blood ran cold in her veins. 

 

“But he said when he called… he told me yesterday that he talked to you and… what do you  _ mean _ you haven't spoken to him in the last two weeks?” Emma was trying to stay calm but nothing about this made sense. Every sense she possessed was honed to a fine edge as she waited on bated breath for his explanation.

 

“That's pretty self explanatory, I'd say. I mean turning you into Mills would be career suicide for me. I'm just as deep in this as you are, so why the hell would I do that now? And what do  _ you _ mean you talked to him  _ yesterday _ ?” Jefferson was clearly just as on edge as she was. Emma could hear him shuffling through papers in the background.

 

“I-I- I don't know,” she stammered, trying to absorb all of this as best as she could. 

 

“This… this is not good, Emma. Tell me everything he told you.”

 

Emma thought back on her conversation with her partner. He had seemed unusually jittery, fumbling over his words, making corrections and amending his statements as he spoke. Emma had been too overwhelmed by the whiplash of joy at hearing from him to anger and fear at his threats to shut down her operation to notice. She just chalked it up to his concern for her. Nevertheless, she told Jefferson everything he said, and brought up her concerns.

 

“Something ain't right here, Emma,” Jefferson said on a sigh when she'd finished. 

 

“No shit,” she snorted, rubbing her fingers over her eyes and down her nose. “What now?”

 

“I'm going to look into this some more. Don't act on Gold until I figure this out. And I'll talk to the DA about a deal for Hook, but, Emma, I'll need a name,” he said.

 

“Can't you just ask about it without a name? And this thing with Gold, it's not going to just wait around for us to get our ducks in a row. I may not have a choice, and I need to know I have backup,” she said, thoroughly stressed by the whole situation.

 

“Fuck!” A bang sounded on the other end of the line, like Jefferson had struck something in frustration, making Emma jump. “I  _ knew _ something was going to happen if I sent you in there alone. God dammit.” He took a deep breath, the line crackling as he exhaled. “If you have to act, then do what you have to do. What's your timeline?”

 

“Two days. He's got something big going down the day after tomorrow and we think we've nailed it to the missing women,” Emma told him.

 

“Perfect. Just amazing. So we have no time, no options, nothing except your bullheaded ass and six different fires to put out,” he replied, sarcasm dripping from every word. “I'll work as fast as I can. But I need that name, Emma. Especially if this is wrapping up. We need to have as much of our shit together as possible on this.”

 

Emma still hesitated. This was a big risk, revealing Killian's identity, but the payoff was too big to ignore and at the end of the day, she did trust Jefferson. 

 

“His name is Killian Jones,” she said quietly, knowing she either just sealed his fate or saved him. 

 

“Got it. I won't put it out anywhere, Emma, I swear to you. We'll talk soon,” he said and they ended the call. 

 

Emma took a deep breath, letting her phone fall on top of the cushion of her bag and scrubbing the heels of her palms over her eyes. She had to tell Killian about Graham. This whole thing left a bad taste in her mouth and she was just ready to get it over with.

 

She dressed quickly and left the room, making her way down the short hallway to Killian's office where the door was cracked. Emma slowed her pace when she heard voices coming from inside.

 

“...not gonna like this, mate.” That was Will Scarlett, his distinctive accent coloring his words.

 

“Sod what she likes, Scarlett. I care only for her safety,” Killian answered angrily and Emma felt a fresh wound open on her heart at his words of betrayal. He was cutting her out. 

 

“What's so special about this set o’ tits ya took on anyways?” The sentence hadn't fully left Will's mouth when several bumps and bangs rang out that had Emma stepping back from the door slightly. 

 

“Don't you  _ ever _ talk about Emma that way again,” Killian said in a voice so low and dangerous it sent a chill up her own spine.

 

“A'right, man, gerroff me!” Will replied, his voice muffled slightly. “Bleedin’ Christ, Jones, you've completely lost your head over her. I only mean to say that I hope she's worth it.”

 

Silence weighed heavily in the air before Killian spoke again.

 

“She's worth everything.”

 

“Well, that's good since it's yer everything that's on the line here,” Will scoffed and Emma felt the drain of blood from her face. Surely he couldn't mean…

 

“Emma needn't know that. All I ask is that you keep her safe. Can you do that, yes or no?” Killian asked.

 

“Well, seein’ as ya won't be ‘round to do it yer own self, looks like I ain't got much of a choice in the matter, do I?” Will snarked back. Killian chuckled, a clapping sound ringing out as if he slapped Scarlett on the back. 

 

“You say that as if it hasn't been a long time coming. Mate, you and I both know I was never walking away from Gold alive. But the important thing is he won't walk away either. Emma doesn't need to see that, to see me…” he trailed off. 

 

“See ya commit suicide? Literally?” Will snapped. Emma felt a panic rise in her like she'd never felt before. Before she could make a move to confront him, Killian spoke again.

 

“I guess we will find out tonight.”

 

_ Tonight? The shipment wasn't for two more days! _ Emma's frantic mind screamed.

 

“This is absolute madness, and yer a fool. There has to be some reason Gold moved this shipment up.” Will sounded like he was at the end of his rope trying to reason with Killian. Emma wanted to strangle him herself at this point.

 

“Aye. He feels the pressure. Gold is a master manipulator. He has eyes nearly everywhere and ears everywhere else,” Killian said, his voice a razor’s edge. “I'll go in tonight, take care of Gold. You will keep Emma here, distracted and then tell her to call it in to her contact at 7:00 pm on the dot. It will be over by then.”

 

Emma looked at her watch. Thanks to their midnight interruption, it was already after 1:00. It was about an hour's drive to the docks. It would take another two hours to infiltrate. And Killian just tried to cut out the wrong woman. She was going, whether he liked it or not, and she had to leave now. She could hear Killian and Will still speaking with each other as she spun on the ball of her foot and stalked back to the bedroom. 

 

Her heart was pounding in her chest but she felt an alert calm settle over her. She could not panic now. Not at zero hour. Not when she could still save these girls and Killian Jones. 

 

The hell with the rest. 

 

She shoveled whatever meager belongings she had strewn about the room into her satchel and began fixing her hair in a ponytail. She had to get out of there before…

 

“Swan?”

 

_ Dammit _ .

 

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, taking her bag and slinging it over her shoulder before turning to face Killian. He stood there silently, two steaming mugs grasped in his good hand, studying her.

 

“Where are you going, love?” he asked but the look in his eyes told her he already knew the answer. He set the mugs on the nightstand and crossed his good arm over his prosthesis across his broad chest.

 

“Out,” she replied stiffly and butterflies exploded in her stomach as she made to walk past him out the door. He grabbed her arm firmly and held her back, but only for a moment. She wrenched free from his grip and glared at him.

 

“It's quite rude to eavesdrop, darling.” He held her gaze, inching closer to her until their chests were almost touching. He continued to stare down at hers, blue eyes twinkling with the fire of protective rage.

 

“It's rude to cut me out of my own fucking operation, Hook,” she spat and he flinched at her use of the moniker. It was barely a blink of a flinch but she caught it all the same. 

 

“I'm just keeping you safe. Doing what needs to be done.” 

 

“You don't get to make those kinds of decisions for me! And what good is going to come from you getting yourself killed?” She crossed her own arms and squared her shoulders. He had at least a half a foot on her in height and it looked like more when he was standing this close, forcing her to tilt her chin up to look at him. 

 

“Plenty,” he replied darkly. “You seem to forget that I'm also a criminal, love.”

 

“And you forget I'm a goddamn cop. You don't have the resources to take this on.”

 

“I don't need resources. Just proximity.”

 

“You don't need to do this. Just let me handle this, we will arrest Gold and-”

 

"NO!" Killian roared, his hand and hook snapping to his sides. "If he goes to trial, he's going to walk. Just like last time. Just like every bloody time!"   
  
Emma felt her rage blend with her fear, a dangerous combination and she wanted to lash out at Killian, do whatever it took to keep him safe. His eyes set on her from the corner of his lids, his torso expanding with every heavy breath he took. It seemed they were of a similar mind. Hook was faster.   
  
Emma lunged for the door just as he lunged for her, catching her around the waist. Emma kicked and struggled but Hook managed to move them backwards, shoving Emma into the open door of the bathroom and shutting it soundly. The latch clicked into place and Emma raged at it, throwing her body against it with a screech. A horrible squealing sound rang out and Emma realized he was dragging something in front of the door.    
  
Emma panicked. He couldn't just lock her in here and leave to go die. She couldn't lose him, too. She kicked and pounded desperately at the door and it splintered, but held fast thanks to the barricade. As she screamed and kicked, Killian's voice filtered through the gap in the door, farther away now.

 

“I'm sorry, agrà. I'm so sorry.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyy guys! Ok, first of all, I'm so sorry about the long wait between updates. Truly. But I do have good news! You may have noticed there is now a complete chapter count! So that means this fic is entirely finished, waiting to post! Including this chapter, there are 3 left to go. Because of the events of the chapter and the fact it has been so long, I'm going to be updating every other day for the final three, starting now! I hope you guys enjoy it (Don't hate me too much lol) and so so many thanks to @kmomof4 for being a fantastic beta, friend, and human being in general. Thank you also to @courtorderedcake who made the amazing banner at the top of each chapter. Here we are at the end and I love as much now as I did when I first saw it. And thank you thank you to every single person who has read, reviewed, shared, anything to do with this story. Your love and patience means the world to me. Here we go guys! It's the beginning of the end...

It took Emma much longer than she wanted to admit to break free of her tiled prison. The door finally gave way after about the seventh or eighth time she heaved her body into it, the table lurching away from where it was firmly lodged beneath the door handle with a ear-piercing squeal of metal on concrete. The table was stopped by the wall as she tried to push it open all the way, leaving her only a small gap to squeeze through, but she managed, her shoulder beginning to ache with the strain. 

 

She was furious. Heartbroken. Hellbent on doing this the right way. The song ringing in her ears that usually calmed her did nothing for her now.

 

The door to the bedroom was closed as well, just as she'd expected it would be, and her satchel lay in the middle of the bed, completely dumped out. She briefly remembered losing it in the struggle and she immediately began sifting through the items, knowing she would find her most essential tools missing. Sure enough, her gun, badge, phone, and lock picking kit were nowhere to be found.

 

“ _ Fuck! _ ” she raged, kicking the bedpost soundly. How had it been less than a day since she was laying in this bed in Killian's arms, safe and sound and ready to take on the world with him at her side? There was no time to dwell on it. She knew what she had to do, starting with getting herself out of this room. 

 

Trying the handle on the door only confirmed her suspicions that she would find it locked. There wouldn't be a way to barricade it and make a hasty escape like she knew he had, so the only obstacle between Emma and freedom was a metal door and a deadbolt. Emma could only thank her semi good planning in putting her keys in her jeans pocket rather than her bag. 

 

She pulled her keys free and found the plastic rectangle hanging from the ring that looked almost like a USB drive. Pulling loose the plastic casing, she revealed a set of tiny lockpicks set up like a Swiss army knife and set about unlocking the door. If there was one thing Emma was, it was surely resourceful.

 

The latch sprung free with a hard wrench of her wrist and her heart leapt in triumph. Now she just had to get out of here. She had a laundry list of things to do and kicking Killian's ass was near the top of it. She stuffed her keys in her pocket and exited the room.

 

“Damn. I owe Hook twenty bucks,” said Will Scarlett from behind her as she burst into the hallway, steam practically billowing from her ears. She snapped her head to one side to get a better look at him and instantly dropped into a fighting stance. Will was entirely unperturbed by her hostility, meandering down the hallway towards her with his hands stuffed in his pockets, a rueful smile in place. “Thought it would take ya at least an hour to break free.”

 

“If you were smart, Will, you would turn around and walk the other way,” Emma warned, her fists clenched in front of her, ready to strike out like a cornered cobra. The bastard smirked at her and paused, rocking back on his heels and forward again like this was all a big joke to him. 

 

“I ain't never been too much for brains, luv, but I do know when I'm beat and I don't much fancy havin’ me arse kicked. ‘Specially not when I happen to agree with ya.” He nodded his head over his shoulder towards the hallway behind him. “C'mon. Got somethin’ ya might need to wrangle in that idiot.”

 

Just when Emma thought she couldn't be more surprised, Will Scarlett proved her wrong. He spun on his heel and walked towards the open door of Killian's office. 

 

What else was there to do but follow him? 

 

Emma walked cautiously down the hall after him, her head buzzing with a thousand questions, her body attuned to her surroundings as if she were walking into a trap. Which she very well could have been, for all she knew. Will Scarlett was Killian's right hand man. He owed her no loyalty. And yet she followed, because, like it or not, he was the only option for help she had at this point. She was willing to take that risk. 

 

Will walked confidently to Killian's desk and opened a drawer, the one just above the locked drawer she'd broken into the first time she was in the room. She crept into the room on soft footsteps, keeping herself light and loose for whatever may come next. When he pulled a gun that she immediately recognized as her own from the desk, her heart jumped into her throat.

 

“Hey, man-” she started, maneuvering herself behind the chair in front of the desk, using it as a makeshift barricade.

 

“Calm down,” he chastised. “I ain't gonna shoot ya. I'm givin’ ‘er back to ya. Can't send ya into a gunfight unarmed, now can I?”

 

Emma blinked at him in utter shock. When she made no move to take the weapon or even form a response, Will scoffed and rolled his eyes, setting the gun down and sliding it butt first towards her against the wood. He backed away from the desk, his hands suspended in midair in a show of good faith. He was really giving her the gun.

 

Still wary of the situation as a whole, Emma stepped forward quickly and retrieved the firearm, checking to see if it was still loaded, which it was. She looked up to Will who was watching her just as carefully, perhaps even more so now that she was armed. 

 

“Shall we, Detective?” he asked gesturing at the door. Emma couldn't help the incredulous laughter that bubbled from her lips. 

 

“You want to come with me?” she asked.

 

“Well, yeah. Hook is a bleedin’ idiot, a moron of epic proportions, but he's still my mate. An’ ya know I'm useful meself. So, yeah. I wanna come. If that's a'right,” he said, tucking his hands back into his pockets. Emma slipped her gun into the waistband of her jeans and quirked an eyebrow at him.

 

“I don't move slowly,” she told him. 

 

“I can keep up.”

 

“This is dangerous. We don't know exactly what we're walking into. People could get hurt.  _ You _ could get hurt.”

 

“What fun is life without a little danger?” He smirked and waggled his eyebrows.

 

“This is  _ serious _ , Scarlett. People's lives are on the line here. Hook's life is on the line. This is bigger than all of us,” she replied, the bluntness of her tone telling him that this wasn't a game. His expression sobered and he nodded succinctly.

 

“No time to waste then, aye?” He stood straighter, checking his pockets and making sure he had everything he needed. Emma sighed heavily. 

 

“Alright, Scarlett. Let's go.”

 

They opted to take Scarlett’s SUV. It wasn't Emma's choice, but upon leaving the building and seeing the parting gift Hook had left her in the form of all four of her tires being flattened, she didn't have any other. She was just grateful that Scarlett had been so accommodating. 

 

Will Scarlett drove like he stole it, which was probably a force of habit for him by now, given his background. Yet another thing that Emma was grateful for in a moment like this. The docks were an hour away but they were making record time. It was only ten minutes into the ride that Emma realized she still didn't have her phone back. She needed to call Jefferson and update him on what was happening. This was what they'd been waiting for. 

 

“Here, use mine,” Will offered, digging in his pocket and tossing her the little flip phone without taking his eyes from the road.

 

“Thanks,” Emma said dryly, fumbling for the device and snapping it open. She punched in the familiar number sequence and waited for an answer.

 

“‘Lo?” came the frazzled reply. Jefferson sounded like he was tearing something apart, keys clacking furiously in the background and papers sliding against one another.

 

“Jeff, it's Nolan.”

 

“Jesus Christ, Emma, where the fuck have you been? Why haven't you been answering your phone?” Jefferson shouted into the receiver and Emma winced.

 

“I'm sorry, it died. Listen, some shit is going down. It's happening. Gold moved up his shipment to tonight and I'm on my way to the docks right now. I'm gonna need backup. This is it,” she explained in a rush. Even now, she couldn't bring herself to mention Hook's betrayal. 

 

“What? No!” Jefferson's startled response was punctuated by more shuffling and a drawer banging open and shut. “Emma. Listen to me. Do not go there. Stand down. There is new information here that we've been trying to crack into that compromises this whole operation. You cannot go there.”

 

“Little late for that,” Will said under his breath as he turned down the back street that led directly to the shipping docks. Emma shot a look at her eavesdropper but didn't say anything to him.

 

“I'm coming up on the docks now, what aren't you telling me?” Emma asked her contact instead.

 

“Emma turn around. Gold has to know you're coming. Humbert, he's dirty. He's been funneling information to Gold this whole time. I'm calling in a squad now. Do not go in there.”

 

Jefferson's words made her stomach sink like a rock.  _ How could she not have known? _ It was one thing for Graham to roll over on her, it was an entirely other thing to hear that someone she trusted and respected, someone she worked with and considered a friend was the complete opposite of everything they stood for. She knew she should wait, but her thoughts flickered to Killian. He'd be dead before anyone else could get there, especially if they knew she was associated with him. They would have expected his arrival. 

 

In that split second, Emma made her decision. 

 

“I'm here, Jeff. I'm already here. I'm going in. It's the only way to make everything right,” she murmured. 

 

“Nolan, don't you dare. Don't you  _ FUCKING _ dare,” he growled and Emma sighed heavily through her nose. “I'm calling Mills. This has gone too far, and you're being reckless. She'll have your badge, but you'll be alive,” Jefferson said in resolute authority. Emma smiled softly at his words as Will pulled the car to a stop in a concealed alcove just a little ways down from the entrypoint.

 

“Do what you have to do, Jeff. It's been great working with you, truly. Get that squad down here ASAP,” Emma said with finality.

 

“Don't hang up this phone, Nolan, don't-”

 

She snapped the phone shut and handed it wordlessly back to Will.

 

“So…” Will trailed off, breaking the silence of the vehicle.

 

Tears burned hot at the corners of Emma's eyes and she inhaled deeply, shaking as she tried to regain some kind of control. She glanced at Will, who was looking at her patiently, ready to follow her lead, and she felt a sense of determined calm wash over her. She could do this. She had to do this. 

 

A buzzing came to the back of her neck and ears and the melody she'd known forever began to hum softly in her head once more. She instantly felt more at ease this time, stronger and more determined than ever before. She gave Will a quick nod and checked her gun once more.

 

Time to move.

 

“Let's go,” she instructed and Will moved on her command. It should have surprised her that Will fell in line with her so easily, but it didn't. Somehow, she knew he would. He trusted her where Killian obviously couldn't. 

 

They stuck close to the buildings, blending with the shadows and debris littered about. Every step closer to the labyrinth of steel containers was like a step closer to her destiny. She couldn't explain the feeling, the way it swelled in her chest, she only knew she was absolutely doing the right thing. 

 

Emma and Will ducked down behind a car near the fence, each of them peeking around the hood to survey the scene before them. The fence that surrounded the lot was only of the chain link variety. There was barbed wire at the top of it, but, in honesty, Emma was slightly confused at the apparent lack of security for an operation so large. It should have put her more at ease, but if there was one thing Emma had learned from this whole experience, it was that things weren’t always what they seemed. As a result, she was more on guard than ever. She made eye contact with Will and motioned with two fingers at the fence, indicating the best way to get past it would just be to go over it and he nodded in agreement. Will shrugged off his jacket, draping it over his forearm, and they set off. 

 

They moved as a unit, silent but sure footsteps taking them to the metal barrier and they began their climb. When they reached the top, Will slung his jacket up and over the fence, draping it so the barbed wire was covered by the leather and he hoisted himself over. Once he was on the other side, Emma joined him and he pulled his jacket down. They hopped to the ground once they were about halfway down, dusted themselves off, and Will put his arms back into his jacket sleeves, tugging it back into place.

 

“Little too easy, innit?” Will murmured with a cocksure smirk and Emma glared at him sharply.

 

“That's what worries me. Stick together,” she snapped. Will gave her a sarcastic salute but made to follow her anyway. 

 

Emma knew from her late nights with Hook poring over the blueprints for the shipping yard that the warehouse was on the east end of the yard, right by the water, and that was the destination she set in mind for them as she began to navigate the channels and pathways between the looming metal structures. Will stayed close at her side, a large buck knife in his hand now that immediately reminded her of the one Killian had threatened her with not so long ago. The bastard. She should have known then.

 

Left, right, straight, left, left, right, left, right. The pathways between the containers seemed never ending. Her thoughts were consumed with Killian and Gold, almost like a driving beacon behind her movements. She moved like a panther down each path, her steps sure and steady towards a resolute goal. She could almost feel a physical tug pulling her down the right path, something drawing her forward when she wasn't certain of the direction to turn next. 

 

A pair of voices stopped them dead in their tracks. Low rumblings of conversation drifted towards them, words unclear, but she knew who at least one of them belonged to.

 

Peter Malcolm. She would bet her Bug that the other belonged to Felix Perdu.

 

Emma shot Will a panicked glance. His mouth set in a firm line in response. He reached forward and gripped her face in both of his palms, the metal of the butt of his knife cold against her cheek.

 

“You bring him home. A'right?” he said and pressed a wet kiss to her forehead. The panic welling up inside her made her chest tighten further as she shook her head, scrambling to hold him in place. Will took a bouncing hop away from her grip, clearly limbering himself to run. With a cheeky wink, he turned the opposite way from the pathway they'd taken and darted across the junction between containers.

 

A loud clang echoed out over the yard as Will slammed his knife into the side of one of the containers. Emma felt a tear slip down her cheek as Will skipped away, banging and making noise, drawing the attention to himself and away from her.

 

“Oi! You cunts! Where're ya at? Ollie Ollie oxen free!” he shouted, disappearing around the bend. “I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts, deedly deedly, there they are a-standin’ in a row!” His offkey singing faded as he moved further away from her and her heart sank further as she heard the approaching voices fade in that direction as well, heavy footsteps following in Will's wake.

 

There was no time to dwell. There was no time for anything except moving forward. Frankly, Will was just another tick on her list. 

 

Save the missing women.

 

Save Will. 

 

Save Killian.

 

Take Gold down.

 

Those were her priorities, in no particular order. She knew that taking Gold down was going to be the lynchpin to this whole plan and she could only hope that Jefferson was sending help her way. No matter what it cost her.  

 

She dipped down another pathway, sticking close to the walls, moving ever closer to her goal. Right, left, right, right, left. A never ending series of pathways and gaps between containers. Her gun felt heavy in her hand. She wasn't even entirely sure when she'd drawn it, but the weight was comforting. Especially now that Will was gone.

 

“...obviously drawing us away from something,” a voice came from around the bend just in front of her. Emma froze and pressed her body into the side of one of the nearest containers, making herself as small as possible. She'd been so focused on her goal she almost walked smack dab into the middle of something.

 

“Yeah, I just finished bangin’ yer mam afore I found you lot,” Will Scarlett replied cheekily, making Emma’s heart seize. “Didn't wantcha ta find ‘er with ‘er knickers ‘round ‘er ankles cos I'm-  _ oof _ -”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” the other voice seethed. “Next time, I'll gut you where you stand.”

 

“A'right, a'right,” Will wheezed, trying to catch his breath after an apparent punch to the gut. The footsteps resumed, drawing closer, and Emma panicked. They were surely going to round the corner and find her at any minute and then she was done for. Useless. Frantically, she looked for an escape, her eyes settling on a storage container across the junction behind her that was propped open. That would work. Listening carefully for sounds of approaching footsteps, she slipped into the gap between the large metal opening and into the storage container. 

 

“Miss Swan. What a lovely surprise.”

 

The voice from behind her caused every hair on her body to stand at attention. She pivoted her body on the ball of her foot, her gun drawn and ready, aiming at the source of the voice. Of all the storage containers that could have been open, of course she would stumble into this one. 

 

Weaver Gold stood calm, his rigid posture speaking confidence and amusement at her presence, and that only pissed Emma off more. She gripped her gun tighter and pointed it directly into his smirking face. 

 

“Don't. Move.” The order was quiet, the words pulled from her with great force. Her teeth ground together and her finger curled tighter around the trigger, ready to fire.

 

The top section of the storage container was interspersed with metal bars, clearly intended to transport livestock. But it let in just enough light that Emma was able to see Gold's features clearly. He didn't look to be frazzled or unkempt in the slightest. Emma was hopeful that meant there hadn't been any altercation with Killian yet, but she couldn't allow herself to drop her guard. Especially not when the figures behind him came into focus in the dim light.

 

At least a dozen and a half dirty, trembling, scared, but  _ alive _ women were seated on the floor of the container behind Gold. They all wore the same plain gray sweats and sweatshirts, smudged with dirt and God knew what else. But they were  _ alive _ . Images of case file after case file flitted through her brain as she took in the sight before her. Ivy, Shirin, Ariel, Aurora, face after face she recognized and she felt like screaming out in triumph. But there were other tasks at hand. Her blood began to boil like lava in her veins, every nerve in her body set alight. She turned her focus back to the man at hand.

 

“You’re a lot harder to get rid of than I imagined you'd be,” Gold said. Emma took a menacing step forward.

 

“I said don't move,” she growled back.

 

“I haven't moved,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. He leaned heavily on his cane and a clipboard was tucked under his arm, but he otherwise looked to be unarmed. “What else would you ask of me, Miss Swan?”

 

“It’s Detective Nolan,” Emma spat. “And you can drop the cane and the clipboard, put your hands above your head, and kneel. Slowly.”

 

To her surprise and infinite fury, his grin only widened.

 

“No, I don't think I'll be doing that,” he said, his eyes flicking over her shoulder. Someone else was there. Before she could react at all, the cold metal of a gun barrel poked just behind her right ear. She froze, her gun still trained on Gold as she weighed her options in a split second. He giggled, that half crazed, high pitched sound that still haunted her dreams and it sent a chill down her spine. 

 

“What poetic justice,” he said softly as he took a confident step forward. “So much time spent on me and my interests. Wasted.” He reached out and gripped the barrel of her own firearm and pulled it down and away. She stiffened, the movement not coming easily, but she knew that even if she killed him in that moment, not only would it cost her her life but Malcolm and Perdu would only carry out his plans in the end. She needed to buy some time. 

 

Gold wrenched the gun from her resistant hands and passed the clipboard to the figure behind her.

 

“Thank you, Felix,” he said and the man behind her hummed in response, making her stomach roll. His eyes stayed fixed on Emma's, the gun handle rolling in his palm, his eyes glittering with something beyond malice. 

 

“So, what now? You gonna shoot me, huh?” Emma asked through gritted teeth. She heard one of the girls behind Gold whimper at her question and she instantly regretted her words as her eyes snapped towards the sound and found the girls huddled together in solidarity. Gold's chuckle drew her gaze back.

 

“I don't think so. Not this time. It seems my attempts to have you done away with don't go as well as I hope they will. You have an extraordinary streak of luck with those kinds of things,  _ Detective _ .” His lip curled into a disgusted sneer as he finally acknowledged her title.

 

“Maybe you just aren't as good as you think you are,” Emma shot back, her eyes blazing into his. He chuckled once more. His thorough amusement at her rage only had her slipping further into fury, and angry people made mistakes. Just like she'd done here. She might as well have shown up on his doorstep like a trussed pig.

 

“Maybe you're right, dearie,” he said menacingly as he stepped forward. “Maybe I'm better. I do hope you'll enjoy Bangladesh, I hear it's lovely this time of year. Though I don't suspect you'll see much outside the bedroom.”

 

Emma's blood turned to ice in her veins. Surely he couldn't be implying…

 

“Nevertheless, you'll fetch me a pretty penny, which is more than I thought I'd be getting from our little arrangement.” He stopped walking just beside her and pressed the gun in his hand deftly into her ribcage where her heartbeat was nearly visible. “Send a postcard, love.”

 

And with that, he was walking past her, the clicking of his cane echoing off the walls. Emma knew it was now or never. If she made a dash for the door, maybe she could overpower him, get her gun back, maybe she could-

 

The cover for the container shut with a resounding clang that shook the sides of the structure and the lock slid and clicked heavily into place. It was too late. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Last chapter time! All that's left after this is the epilogue and that will post on Friday! So so many thanks to @kmomof4 who is the best beta I could have asked for on this story, not to mention an amazing human being and friend. I honestly couldn't have done this without her. And the hugest thank you and love and accolades to @courtorderedcake who made the truly stunning banner that you see at the top of each chapter. And thank you so much to every reader who has ever opened this story. All of your kudos and comments and reblogs and favorites, they mean more to me than i can express. Away we go!

“No!” Emma screamed and threw herself at the door of the container, trying to knock out open but the only sound she heard was the heavy bolt clicking into place. This did not deter her and she continued to kick and slap and channel all her righteous rage at the door.

 

“It won't work. There's no way out,” a resigned voice sounded from behind her. Emma whirled around, her eyes settling on the group of terrified women behind her. The woman with shorter dark hair in the front -  _ Ivy Belfrey, _ Emma knew just from one look at the face that had haunted her dreams as of late - exuded calm and collected amongst the group of cowering, sniffling girls. Her voice held no waver when she spoke, but her big, brown eyes told a different story entirely. She was barely holding it together.

 

“I know,” Emma sighed and put her hands on her hips, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “I just needed to be angry for a minute. I'm so sorry. I've let you all down.”

 

Ivy chuckled mirthlessly. “You got closer than anyone else did. At least he didn't chain you up.” She shook the shackles at her wrist, making them rattle for emphasis. Shame overwhelmed Emma's body at her outburst. Here she was, no more than twenty minutes into being locked up inside this container, fate uncertain, and she was already losing it. In front of these women who had endured this nightmare for months already and still were worse off than she.

 

“Well, if it's any consolation, my contact probably called in back up by now. We just have to hope they get here in time,” Emma offered pitifully. Ivy gave her a tight lipped smile, her eyebrows shooting up on her forehead in a placating gesture and gave her a slow nod. She didn't believe Emma, and she truly couldn't blame her. Emma sighed heavily and let her head thunk backwards onto the door.

 

From behind her, a rattling sound emerged and the door began to open. Emma looked with surprise and fear in her eyes to the crowd of women who looked even more frightened than before. Ivy’s smile turned sadder than before as if to confirm what they both were thinking. Time had run out. 

 

Emma turned around, instinctively placing herself between the door and the girls, trying to find something,  _ anything _ that would help her at least fend them off for a bit as the hinges creaked and groaned and the crack to the outside world widened. She dropped her center of gravity and braced herself for a fight. If she was going down, she was going down swinging.

 

A head poked through the door and looked around, the silhouette blackened by the sunlight behind it. Emma could make out a tangle of curly hair and the bridge of a nose but not much else, unless they moved out of the light. The body followed, slipping through the crack of the metal door and a sense of familiarity swept over Emma. She knew who this was.

 

Fucking  _ Graham _ .

 

“Emma,” he said, relief lightening his tone. “Thank God you're-”

 

He was cut off by a swift right hook to the jaw that sent him tumbling to the side of the container, leaving the door to bang shut behind him. It shivered and rattled as it bounced back open to let in just enough of a sliver of light that she could see clearly by. Graham clutched at his jaw and groaned, his other hand scrambling for purchase against the metal siding to stand again as Emma advanced on him, poised to deliver another hit.

 

“Wait, wait, wait! Emma, wait!” he said desperately, inching away from her and holding his hands up to ward off her next attack until his back was pressed against the side of the container. “I'm here to get you out of here!”

 

“Like I'd believe a single thing that came out of your traitorous mouth, you piece of shit,” she hissed. Graham sighed heavily, throwing his head back, letting it knock against the side of the container with a soft twang. 

 

“I had a plan, Emma. I had no choice. My grandfather borrowed a  _ lot _ of money from him and when he died, his debt fell to me. He would've killed me if I didn't help,” he insisted and Emma snorted. He set his jaw and moved another step closer to her. “I never meant for you to get caught up in this.”

 

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. 

 

“I swear, I was going to tell you everything. I didn't want you hurt and we were getting thrown into this thing headfirst. It's why he tried to take me out, because I wanted out,” he said, grabbing one of her hands and pleading with his grey-blue eyes for her to believe him. 

 

Fortunately for him, Emma found no trace of a lie. Unfortunately for her, it made him her best chance of getting out of this mess. Even if he was telling the truth, this whole situation had put him so far out of favor with her, he couldn't ever hope to recover a modicum of trust from her. And trust was what the situation demanded.

 

She looked over his face, the face of a man she once trusted with her life. Emma wasn't sure if she really ever knew him at all. Flashes of flirty encounters, friendly smiles, stakeouts in cars, grabbing lunch for one another, a dozen things ran through her mind. Maybe he had gotten in over his head. Maybe this was all a big mistake. Maybe she was just tricking herself into trusting him again because she had no other choice. 

 

It worked enough for her to take the chance. 

 

“Fine,” she spat and every muscle in Graham's body seemed to relax and a tentative smile spread over his lips. Emma wanted to glare back at him, but schooled her expression into a mask of calm indifference before turning on her heel and stalking back over to where the women were seated. 

 

“I'll be back for you, I promise,” she said to Ivy, kneeling down in front of her. “Come hell or high water, I'm coming back for all of you.” Ivy gave her a tremulous smile and a nod. 

 

“I believe you,” she replied, her voice cracking as a single tear escaped her lash line down her cheek. The chains around her wrist jangled gratingly as her hand darted up to wipe away the evidence of her emotions. Emma smiled briefly at her and reached out to squeeze her arm. Without another word, she turned and made her way back to Graham near the exit. 

 

“I better not regret this, Humbert. I swear, I'll fucking  _ ruin _ you if you screw me over. What I'll do to you will make you wish Gold  _ did _ kill you,” she told him, a sharp finger pointing directly in his face to make her point. Graham swallowed thickly, his eyes darting from her finger back up to her eyes. 

 

“I swear on my life, Emma, I'm really here to help,” he insisted. Emma nodded sharply and swept her arm at the door.

 

“After you,” she said.

 

Graham opened the door and slipped outside, Emma following in his wake. He paused, giving Emma an apologetic smile as he gingerly slid the lock back into place. She understood. They had to maintain appearances. Silently, he motioned to a container just across from where they were. Graham moved swiftly, Emma hot on his heels. When they rounded the corner, Emma's breath caught in her throat. 

 

_ The warehouse _ .

 

She had been so close when she got caught. Killian was sure to be inside. And Will. And likely Gold and his cronies at this point. And where the hell was her backup?! As if he read her mind, Graham spoke. 

 

“Now,” he whispered. “There's a gate over thirty yards to the left that's unchained. They use it to move trucks in and out. It's usually guarded but Gold has everyone in the warehouse right now. If we leave now, we should be able to get back to a safe distance in time for backup to roll in. According to my radio, they're about twenty minutes out.” Emma snapped her head to look at him.

 

“That's too long,” she whispered back. “No, I can't leave, there's something I have to do.” If Killian was still alive, he certainly wouldn't be if he had to wait twenty more minutes. Especially now that Gold was able to give him his undivided attention. 

 

“ _ What?! _ ” Graham hissed. “Emma, whatever you think you've got to do, just let backup handle it. You're unarmed and vulnerable. You can't just stay here!” His voice was squeaking in and out of a whisper as he tried to reason with her, grabbing at her arm, but Emma was past the point of listening. 

 

“Listen, Graham, I know that loyalty  _ clearly _ means nothing to you,” she spat, shaking him off, “but there is a man in that building, a  _ good  _ man. I don't know if he's alive or dead but while the smallest chance remains that he can be saved, I  _ have _ to take it.”

 

“Emma,  _ please-” _

 

“Go, Graham. Go wait for backup, tell them about the girls. Do something right, for a change. Now is your chance for redemption,” she said, eyes straight ahead and fixed on the metal doors to the warehouse.

 

“What about you?” he asked, resigned.

 

“I've got a scoundrel to save,” she murmured, lips quirking up at the memory.

 

Emma didn't wait for his reply. It wasn't of any consequence anyhow. She fully intended to get to that warehouse, everything else would resolve itself. Moving forward, she couldn't help but pause. She was walking into a situation she had zero control over to try and save a man who she didn't even know could be saved. She had to be out of her damn mind. It wasn't like she could waltz through the front door and start making demands.

 

From the back of her awareness, a gentle chiming tinkled against the salty breeze. Emma's brow furrowed at the melody as she scanned the area. As her gaze swept to the left, the song grew louder, stronger until her eyes fell on a door a few meters away from the entrance. There was another way inside. 

 

Hope swelled in her chest as the tune drifted away with the strange twist in her luck. But if there was one thing Emma Swan had learned in her life, it was don't look a gift horse in the mouth. So, she moved forward, every sense on full alert. She really wished she had her gun. Or a knife. Or  _ anything _ at this point. Yet she plowed ahead, armed only with her wits and a prayer, slipping as silently as humanly possible through the side door. 

 

She heard them before she saw them. Words began to filter in as she silently moved behind the stacks of wooden crates and pallets near the warehouse wall. Even she was impressed by her level of stealth. Emma drew in a single shaky breath and puffed it out as she came upon a vantage point, just a slim opening near the end of the row of boxes that concealed her. 

 

“C'mon, come  _ off  _ it, mate,” a voice clearly belonging to Will Scarlett boomed out. “Yer not some high an’ mighty, hoity toity, proper businessman. Yer a fuckin’ monster who gets off on treatin’ girls like animals. You-” 

 

A sickening crack and a yelp of pain from Will cut his words off immediately. Emma’s hand flew to her mouth to contain her audible reaction. She felt like she couldn't breathe for a second. Steeling her resolve, she peeked through the gap to see what was happening. Her knees almost buckled when she set her sights on the center of the large space.

 

Will had blood everywhere. His hands were bound behind his back and he sat on his knees on the dirt floor. His eye was swelling rapidly and he spit a stream of crimson that was enough to fill a large shot glass at least. He grinned up at a scowling Weaver Gold through bloodstained teeth. Malcolm and Perdu waited calmly behind him, waiting for their next order. Gold clutched his cane like a sword, the gold handle of it smeared with what was almost certainly Will Scarlett's blood.

 

“I ain't one o’ yer girls,  _ mate _ ,” he said and spat into the dirt again. “Untie me an’ let's see what yer really made of, eh?”

 

“Now why would I do that when I have all the power here?” Gold asked, fishing a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the handle of his cane free of blood. The silken square fluttered to the floor as he discarded it without a second thought.

 

“Coward,” a much deeper voice growled from a few feet behind where Will kneeled. Emma's eyes tracked the voice to its source and she felt her heart stop for several beats in her chest.

 

_ Killian. _

 

He was kneeling, same as Will, but it appeared his much earlier arrival to the compound had not fared well for him. He was almost unrecognizable, his face nearly entirely painted with his own blood. His once soft locks were matted to his head, streaks of scarlet covering his clothes. His cheeks and eyes were swollen and it was clear at least one of the joints in his good arm were dislocated as he cradled it to his chest with his stunted limb. His prosthesis was nowhere to be seen. There were no bindings on his arms, pointless as they would be on a man with one hand, and Emma was sure that was the reason for the dislocation. 

 

Zelena stood behind him, face pale, hands clasped tightly in front of her over the butt of a small revolver. She wasn't okay with this but she wasn't about to step in and suffer Gold's wrath herself, that much was clear.

 

Gold smiled, a sinister, evil thing that had Emma feeling like she was going to be sick. She knew what that smile meant. She'd seen it on his face before, right before he killed Marian Locksley. He walked past Will Scarlett and the younger man lunged at him, bound as he was. Will fell uselessly onto his side and Gold easily sidestepped him as Felix Perdu stepped up to where he'd fallen and delivered a sharp kick to his ribs. 

 

Gold stopped a good three feet in front of Killian, the smile never leaving his lips. Tucking the cane into the crook of his arm, he beckoned Malcolm to join him without ever taking his eyes from Killian. Wordlessly, Peter Malcolm fell in line beside his boss and fished out two guns, one in each hand, from his waistband, holding them out to Gold to inspect. 

 

“Call me whatever you like, Hook. The end result remains the same. With you dead on this warehouse floor. The only question is, how to do it?” He gestured to the guns in his associate’s hands. “I could shoot you with the gun you brought here, the one you intended to put me down with. I have to admit, that was the plan until just a short time ago. But there's now a second option. I could also shoot you with this.” He picked up the second gun and turned it over in his hand. Emma's heart sank. Even from her cover across the room she could tell it was her gun.

 

Killian didn't answer, his split and swollen lips pulled into a snarl as he glared defiantly up at the man he hated to the depths of his soul. Gold set his cane back on the ground and walked forward, touching the gun to Killian's chin and tipping his head up further as he leaned down.

 

“Aren't you going to ask what's so special about this piece?” he asked, his gold tooth glinting in the light. Emma peeled her eyes away, searching for anything to help her. She spied a loosened board hanging from a broken crate. With a little leverage, she could probably get it free.

 

“Wasn't planning on it, no,” Killian replied casually, his words slurring together as his swollen jaw worked. Emma moved away towards the board, keeping one eye on the scene and working at freeing it from the one nail that held it in place.

 

“Well, I'll tell you anyway,” he said through a clenched smile, digging the barrel harder into Killian's flesh and making him wince. “This gun belongs to the infamous Detective Emma Nolan.”

 

Killian froze. His whole being went entirely rigid and his eyes widened as much as they could in their state. She felt tears rise up in her eyes again as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat against the gun barrel. His expressive brows darted inwards sharply. Emma had stopped her struggle with her potential weapon, holding her breath as she waited for what may come next.

 

“You're lying,” he snarled after a long moment of silence.

 

“Oh, I couldn't make this up if I tried,” Gold said on a laugh. “Not to worry. She's unharmed and waiting with the rest of my cargo to be shipped off to parts unknown. You know, I think I like this option more than shooting you with your own gun.”

 

“You underestimate her,  _ Crocodile _ ,” Killian hissed, rocking forward on his knees with a grunt, his electric blue eyes never leaving Gold's. “Even if you've managed to temporarily detain her, she'll come for you. And she'll never stop until she gets you.”

 

Gold smirked. Emma's heart stuttered in her chest at Killian's overwhelming faith in her, all of the anger she felt for him melting away until there was only vibrant, profound love. And fear. She couldn't deny she'd never been more scared in her life. Now definitely wasn't the time to indulge in that line of thinking. Instead, Emma Nolan did what she did best: screwed her courage to its sticking place and moved. In one fluid motion, she gripped and pulled the plank of wood she had been working at, freeing it from its fastenings with surprisingly minimal noise. The industrial fans inside the warehouse easily drowned out what little there had been. A quick peek back through the gap in the crates confirmed everyone else remained none the wiser.

 

“I wonder what our fair detective would say if she could only see you now?” Gold taunted Killian and Emma figured that was as good an opening as any, propping the wooden slat on her shoulder and marching out from behind the crates like hell incarnate. 

 

“Why don't you ask me yourself?” 

 

Every eye in the room flicked to her. Will groaned from his place on the floor, his neck straining to look back at her. Killian looked distraught, his features paling even further, though Emma hadn't thought it possible. Malcolm and Perdu glanced nervously to their boss, clearly dumbstruck by the fact that she was no longer contained. Zelena looked like she was ready to run at any given second.

 

“Why I am I not surprised in the least?” Gold murmured, withdrawing the gun from Killian's chin and leaning heavily on his cane, a half crazed grin working its way onto his face. A quick nod of his head had the two men behind him heading in her direction. She gripped the board on her shoulder firmly, like a baseball bat, and moved towards them as well. 

 

“No, Emma!” Killian's cry rang out as the three nearly clashed. 

 

She felt the sharp, burning sting in her calf before she even heard the gunshot echo off the metal walls. She gasped, looking down as her jeans began to immediately darken with wet, seeping blood and her leg threatened to give out on her altogether. As she looked towards the source of the gunshot, she could see Gold's smiling face still aiming her own sidearm directly at her. She stumbled and swung, her body beginning to fall as she turned into the motion. She could hear a groan and the firm  _ thwack  _ of the board hitting someone, but all her focus was on simply not falling to her face.

 

“You bloody fucking bastard! I'll rip the shriveled heart from your chest, you miserable worm!” She could hear Killian screaming out into the open space as dots danced in her vision.

 

Emma's hands shot out to brace herself as she fell, her only weapon clattering noisily to the hard ground beside her. She heard the scrape of wood on dirt as someone kicked it away and then hands were on her arms, pulling her to her knees.

 

A loud shout rang out from her left and she was jerked to one side as Felix Perdu was suddenly yanked away from her. Emma tried to adjust her weight and wrench free of Peter Malcolm's deceptively tight grip, but a flare of white hot pain in her leg stopped her mid motion. Instead, she lashed out with her free hand, swinging blindly at the man next to her, her lower leg violently protesting every motion. Emma caught him in the side, causing the man to groan and sway away from her, but his grip remained vicelike in place on her arm. His other hand found purchase in her hair, yanking her ponytail back and pinning her arm behind her. She cried out at the motion, her back arched so far back she thought she was going to snap in two. She could feel her pant leg begin to stick to her skin as it saturated with the free flowing blood from her wound.

 

“Felix!” Malcolm hissed near her ear as he struggled to contain Emma. Her eyes snapped to the left and she saw the man in question grappling with a familiar form on the ground. The blond man staggered to his feet, imposing his lanky frame over the huddled mass on the floor. He delivered a precise kick to the ribs as he'd done before with Will, much to the same effect. Graham Humbert had swiftly been reduced to a groaning lump in the middle of the warehouse, heroic effort thwarted before Emma could even realize it had begun.

 

A gunshot rang out again.

 

“Enough!” Gold bellowed, effectively silencing the room, gun pointed at the high ceiling where he'd fired into the air. Emma scanned her view back to where he stood, his cane now somehow pressed against Killian's throat as he lay squirming on his side. Zelena stood nearby, pointing her gun in Will's general direction where he sat on his knees once more, her wary eyes on the man in control.

 

Felix grappled with a resistant Graham for another moment, pulling him to his knees as well and retrieving his own gun from his waistband. He placed the muzzle none too gently behind Graham's ear, making the Irishman hiss in pain as he wiped a smudge of blood from his lip.

 

“Glad you could join us, Humbert,” Gold said icily, pressing down on Killian's windpipe as he began to wriggle on the floor again. He made a choked sound that had Emma lunging forward, only to be wrenched back by the iron grip in her hair. Gold saw the movement and sent a sadistic smile in her direction. He pressed a little harder making Killian kick out against the pressure before releasing him and letting him gasp on the floor.

 

“How fitting that you set this whole undercover scenario into motion, only to be here to witness its tragic end,” Gold said to Graham, who was now seething defiantly at him.

 

“I got involved to keep Emma safe. It was only a matter of time before you got exposed and I couldn't let you hurt her,” he replied through gritted teeth, his nose dripping a stream of blood over his lips and chin. Gold's expression remained impassive and amused at the turnout of this entire charade.

 

"Yes, and haven't you done a wonderful service to Detective Nolan,” he jeered, his gold tooth catching the light as he spoke. “But it wasn't all for naught. One thing this operation did afford me was the opportunity to suss out a rat." He leveled his gun at Graham and Emma saw his Adam's apple bob up and down and his eyes flutter closed in acceptance of his fate. Emma looked back at Gold in panic, scanning through every feasible option in her head to prevent this from happening, but she knew in her restrained state there was nothing she could do. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, unable to watch.   
  
She nearly jumped out of her skin when the gunshot rang out. Her eyes flew back open, immediately finding Graham and looking him over. There was no blood, and he was panting, near sobbing in relief. _Had he worn a vest?_   
  
A heavy _fwump_ came from beside Gold. Emma turned her head to see what the noise was and saw Zelena in a heap at Gold's feet, eyes open and unseeing. Gold stepped back away from the rapidly spreading pool of blood that oozed out around her. Emma felt like she was going to be sick, whether from the blood loss or the sight of Zelena’s lifeless form, she wasn’t sure.

 

And then all hell broke loose. 

 

Will, no longer under guard, lunged at Gold from his knees, managing to tackle the older man from behind even with his hands bound and knock the gun from his hand, sending it skittering across the dirt in Emma’s direction. Killian scrambled to his feet with the aid of his stunted arm and made a quick dive for the weapon. Emma tensed, her heart leaping into her throat, but was soon blindsided by a starburst of light in her vision as an explosive pain erupted in her temple. 

 

Killian was enraged. The second he saw the butt of the gun, the gun  _ he _ had brought there, hit Emma in the head, a white hot fury engulfed him and his vision tunneled on the man responsible. Peter Malcolm smirked at him with all the innocence his boyish face could muster, but an underlying hint of something no less than pure evil. Killian dove for the gun at the same time Malcolm did, the two colliding together in a painful grunt.

 

“You're lucky Gold claimed your death for his own or I would have painted the walls in this place with your blood by now,” Malcolm said in Killian's ear as he grappled him into a headlock.

 

“Always do whatever Daddy tells you then?” Killian wheezed, slamming his elbow into the young man's side. His grip around his neck slipped for a moment but he gained leverage when he grasped Killian's dislocated arm and pulled, sending him to his knees.

 

“More like the other way around. I allow things to happen the way that benefits me the most. Gold listens to my advice, and that benefits me the most. I can't deny him the things he wants when they're in my interest as well,” he replied and pulled harder. 

 

Emma wasn’t even aware she had hit the ground until her world was sideways. Shaking the stars from her eyes, she watched as Gold and Will grunted and rolled on the dirt floor, Gold quickly gaining the upper hand over the restrained man. He straddled the younger man, pressing his cane into his throat, tributaries of blood painting his temple, cheek, and jaw, and Will’s eyes nearly bugged out of his skull with the pressure. She tried to sit up, her world tilting unevenly, and her hand came up to cradle her head where she’d clearly been hit hard. 

 

Two loud cracks sounded to her left and she turned, scrambling to her knees and nearly collapsing back into the dirt as she discovered she no longer had any feeling in her right leg below the knee. Her hand came down from her head to support her weight and she found there was already fresh, wet blood on her palm from where she had been struck in the head. There was no time to deal with that now. She refocused her swimming vision to where Graham was standing over Felix, who appeared to be unconscious, the board Emma had been relieved of earlier in pieces on the floor, a chunk still in Graham's hand. 

 

A sharp yelp of pain drew Emma's attention back to Killian.  Malcolm had his dislocated shoulder pulled in a way that definitely wouldn't have been possible if the joint were intact. Her eyes darted back to Will, seeing Graham approach and pull Gold off of him, sending him tumbling near Felix’s still form. Injured or not, Emma wasn't about to stand by and let any more damage be done. 

 

“Get them, I'll get these two,” Graham told Will, nodding his head back to Gold and Perdu.

 

In one smooth motion, Graham had snapped the zip tie from around Will's wrists and he was in motion. He and Emma moved towards Killian at the same time, Malcolm's eyes landing on her first. He smiled and raised his gun from where he had been digging it into Killian's shoulder and aimed at her limping form. Will got to him first, delivering a ferocious punch to the side of the younger man's head and sending him sprawling towards Emma's discarded gun. 

 

Emma leapt forward, skidding into the dirt towards the firearm. Malcolm had shaken off the punch and was now scrambling towards the weapon at the same time. Emma's hand found the grip just milliseconds before Malcolm's closed around the muzzle and the two began a dangerous tug of war with the gun between them. Emma reached out with her free hand, her palm pushing into Malcolm's face and her thumb digging into his eye, making him cry out and jerk back, but still not relinquishing his hold. 

 

Killian growled nearby. Will had immediately began addressing Killian's most grievous injury and they both knew Killian would never make it out alive with his good arm useless. 

 

“Do it,” Killian said with a nod and Will nodded back in agreement. He palpated the joint, grasped his friend's wrist firmly and pulled. The joint snapped back into place with an audible  _ pop _ . Killian sucked a hissing breath through his teeth and groaned. 

 

“Don't say I never did nothin’ for ya,” Will quipped and pulled him up by his stunted arm. 

 

“We'll talk about your insubordination after we get out of here,” Killian growled, but his eyes were grateful. Will smirked. 

 

“Aye, boss,” he replied cheekily and turned to help Graham deal with Gold. Killian directed his focus back to his blonde avenger, who was still wrestling for the weapon with the younger man. Malcolm's, rather  _ Killian's _ , gun had been knocked away in the struggle for the second pistol. Killian picked up into a jog and scooped up the weapon from the dirt, his teeth gritting against lingering pain in his arm, as Malcolm finally wrested Emma's gun from her grip and pointed it down at her with a sadistic smile. 

 

Killian didn't even blink as he raised his arm and fired, the bullet finding the side of Malcolm's head and sending him sideways, dead. Killian sank to his knees, pushing Malcolm's body away from Emma's form and reaching for her immediately. Emma surged up, her hands clutching at his face and hair and her body slamming into his. Everywhere she touched him practically howled with pain, but he simply couldn't find it in him to care now that his love, his soulmate was safe in his arms. 

 

“Emma, you shouldn't be here, this was so stupid!” he said past the sobs catching in his chest. Emma couldn't help but smile brilliantly up at him, frantically shaking her head. “I tried so hard to keep you from this.”

 

“What can I say? I’m resourceful,” she said on a tremulous chuckle. Killian looked like he was about to attempt another weak protest, his arms looping around her waist and crushing her torso to his, but she cut him off with a kiss, her palms flattening against his cheeks. He groaned at the tenderness in his jaw and Emma pulled back with wide eyes. 

 

“I'm so sorry! I forgot, I'm so-” He cut her off with a bruising kiss of his own, desperation and relief pouring over her with every pull of his lips against hers like a soothing balm.

 

A gunshot rang out from across the room, making both of their heads turn with the speed of a cracking whip. Emma watched in horror as a dark liquid quickly spread over the back of Graham's shirt.  She screamed, clambering to her feet to try to get to him, her leg giving out several times before she managed to get up, Killian not far behind. Graham hit his knees first, but then fell to the floor, his body completely still. Felix Perdu, now very much awake, was holding a knife to Will's throat and Gold was grinning like a feral animal on the floor, his gun changing trajectory from where Graham had just stood to set Killian in his sights. 

 

Everything moved in slow motion. Will was shouting something but she couldn't hear it over the heartbeat in her ears. Felix was watching the scene with great interest, giving Will an opening to punch him in the face and gain the upper hand, but not before Weaver Gold pulled the trigger. Emma reacted instantly, her body turning and her hands shooting out to push Killian away from the bullet’s path. He stumbled and fell, his horrified eyes on Emma the whole time. 

 

His body shuddered as he bounced against the dirt floor. Emma huffed a little laugh, relieved, das her eyes swept over him and found no further wounds. She turned back to Gold, grimacing at a pinch in her abdomen. Her hand darted up to the pain on a reflex and Gold's dark eyes held hers as his grin widened. Her belly was warm, wet, and the world around her became dimmed and muted as her eyebrows ticked together in confusion. 

 

Motion in her periphery caused her to turn away from Gold in time to see Will Scarlett lift the knife that had just been against his throat and plunge it into Felix Perdu’s chest. Once he was sure the younger man wasn't getting up, he turned and lunged at Gold, easily subduing the still grinning man and knocking the gun free from his grip. She looked down, pulling her hand away from her stomach and merely watching as the stain of her own blood soaked her clothes and began to drip into the dirt. 

 

Emma blinked and Killian's arms were around her, though she wasn't sure when he'd stood. The pinch in her abdomen was growing more and more prevalent, until it was like a red hot poker twisting her insides. Her eyelids fluttered against the tears gathering at her lashline and she looked up to Killian's devastated face as her legs gave out beneath her. An eerie calm set over her as her fingers and toes began to tingle and the muscles in her stomach clenched and released involuntarily. She knew what was coming. 

 

“Killian,” she choked out. “The women, they're in a storage container, you have to tell the cops when they get here.” Killian’s eyes scanned her frantically, darting from the wound in her stomach to her face. His left arm supported her weight off the floor, gathering her into his lap as much as possible, and his hand shakily traced the curve of her cheek.

 

“Shh, love, don't talk, it's okay, it'll be okay,” he said and it was clear he was trying to convince himself as much as he was her. His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly again and again, tears spilling from his brilliant blue eyes onto his cheeks. Emma gave him a weak smile.

 

“I love you,” she said, her voice cracking as she tried to hold a brave face. A single tear rolled away from the corner of her eye and merged with the sticky, drying streaks of blood on her cheek. “I'm so glad I got here in time. Please, please, move on from this life, Killian. You are so much better than all of this.”

 

“Stop talking like that!” he snapped, his trembling fingers stroking over her face in an instinctual rhythm as he rocked her in his arms. “You're going to be fine, it's going to be okay!”

 

“Promise me,” she whispered desperately. “Promise me  _ you'll _ be okay.”

 

“I can't…” he gritted out, tears continuing to fall freely and roughening his voice. 

 

“Please,” she begged, beginning to struggle for consciousness.

 

“Okay, love,” he agreed softly, pressing his split lips to her forehead and letting out a shaky sob. 

 

“Say it,” she urged. He pulled back and looked into her dimming green eyes.

 

“I promise. No more of the criminal life. I'm done, out for good,” he vowed. Emma smiled softly, her eyes fluttering for a moment. “Hey, hey, stay with me.” A quick tap to her cheek had her eyes peeling back open and setting on his vibrant blue. 

 

The sound of sirens filled the air, getting closer and closer, and Emma sighed happily. Red and blue lights filtered in through the high windows along the walls, visible even over the fluorescent lights that illuminated the space. Backup had finally arrived. It was all going to be okay. 

 

“Do you hear that, love? Help is here, they're going to fix you right up, my darling,” Killian assured her and Emma hummed in response. Her vision was swiftly darkening at the edges and she was so cold. She just needed to close her eyes for a second…

 

“Emma? Emma?! Bloody hell, Emma, open your eyes. Open your eyes, love,  _ please! Emma! _ ”

 

She could hear Killian’s request, but this time, try as she might, her eyes remained stubbornly closed. 

 

“ _ Fuck!  _ Don't take her from me, too, please, God, please don't. We just found each other! Emma, I love you, come back to me…”

 

There was more shouting and commotion around her, but none of that registered as she slipped into the beckoning shadows on the tune of a familiar lullaby.

 

When Emma opened her eyes again, everything was white. She felt… _good._ More confused than ever, she placed a hand on her stomach and found it suspiciously dry. Glancing down, she confirmed the hole that she could have sworn was _just there_ was gone. She sat up slowly, assessing her injuries, and found her head no longer throbbed, her leg no longer ached. If she was being honest, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt better in her whole life. She stood just as cautiously from her place on the floor, taking in her surroundings, or lack thereof.

 

“ _ Where… the hell am I _ ?” Emma murmured, looking around, finding but nothing but vast, white, nothing.

 

“ _ Not quite, _ ” a friendly baritone chuckled behind her, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. She  _ knew _ that voice. It was the same voice that used to tell her there were no monsters under her bed when she was young, the voice that soothed her when she skinned her knee or bumped her head, the voice of encouragement and reason, of discipline and kindness, the voice she never thought she would hear again. She wanted to turn around, she wanted it to be true, but she hesitated. Surely, this was her injured brain playing tricks on her. A small, warm hand landed on her shoulder and she tensed.

 

“ _ It’s okay, Emma, _ ” a new voice soothed, sweet and melodic, the sound of lullabies and fairytales and pride. Emma swallowed several times, trying to gain control of the rapidly rising lump in her throat, and turned to face the two faces she had been aching to see since she was twelve years old.

 

Mary Margaret and David Nolan stood side by side, David’s arm wrapped around his wife’s waist, both smiling joyously at their daughter. They were exactly as Emma remembered them, David tall and strong, his cornflower blue eyes twinkling as he smiled, Mary Margaret nearly bursting with excitement, Emma’s own green eyes staring out from her heart shaped face, shining with unshed tears. Emma’s hand came up automatically to grip at the chain she wore around her neck with their wedding bands but found they were missing. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, though, blinking through her own tears as her hand smoothed absently down the front of her shirt, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar.

 

“Look  _ at you, _ ” her mother breathed, voice catching on a barely restrained sob, outshined by her brilliant smile. “ _ We have missed you so, so much. _ ”

 

She reached for Emma again, but the blonde took an instinctive step back. She saw the flicker of hurt, yet also understanding cross her parents’ faces but she couldn't have stopped the motion if she tried. 

 

“ _ I tried… for  _ years _ I tried to reach you. You  _ never _ came. Why? Why now? I don't understand… _ ” Emma choked out, all the thoughts and emotions she'd suppressed over the years trying to burst out of her at once. Her mother gave her a watery smile, sadness clouding the air between the three. 

 

“ _ We wanted to. We missed you every day, _ ” her father said, an ache in his voice that settled in Emma's own chest and clenched at her heart.

 

“ _ We wanted to give you your best chance at a good life. One filled with happiness and love. You couldn't do that if you were still clinging to things you couldn't change, _ ” Mary Margaret replied softly. She nodded succinctly, her short dark hair bouncing with the movement. 

 

“ _ But we were always watching, never too far. We are so proud of you, Emma, _ ” David said, and Emma felt a full blown sob rise up inside of her. She caught it just before it burst from her lips, a sharp gasp the only sound that escaped. 

 

“ _ Is this real? _ ” she asked shakily. Mary Margaret gave her a sad little smile and nodded. 

 

“ _ I'm afraid so, princess, _ ” David murmured and Emma's eyes widened in realization. 

 

“ _ If you wanted me to live my life, there has to be a reason I'm seeing you now. So I'm… _ ” she trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. 

 

Dead. She was dead.

 

She wanted to throw up. Could spirits throw up? This might be the day she found out. At least backup had arrived. Those women were safe. Gold would be taken into custody and he would pay for everything he'd done. Will was safe. Killian was safe. But she'd left him behind, just like everyone else he'd loved. She could only hope he would keep his promise.

 

“ _ Mom, Dad, _ ” she whispered, needing their comfort now more than ever. Her father was the first to reach her, breaking his hold on his wife and rushing forward to scoop his daughter into his arms, cradling the back of her head to his chest like he used to when she was young. 

 

“ _ Oh, baby, _ ” her mother said, fitting herself into Emma's side and hugging her the best she could. Emma reached for her blindly and shifted so she was clinging to both of them as tightly as possible. Her mother reached up and stroked her hair, humming a familiar, soothing tune that had Emma pulling back in sheer shock.

 

“ _ What is that song? _ ” she asked, forcing her voice to be steady. Mary Margaret smiled wistfully.

 

“ _ It was a lullaby I used to sing to you when you were a baby. Calmed you right down every time, _ ” she said softly. Emma swallowed past the dryness that had suddenly taken up residence in her throat. 

 

“ _ I've heard that song my whole life. Whenever I was scared or upset or sad, I've always heard it. I thought I made it up, _ ” Emma whispered looking between her parents’ faces. They each gave her a knowing smile. “ _ You were with me my whole life. _ ”

 

“ _ Oh, honey _ ,” her mother murmured. “ _ Of course we were. I could never be too far _ .”

 

“ _ I'm so sorry, _ ” Emma blurted out suddenly. Her parents blinked in shock, exchanging a look of surprise before turning back to Emma with concern. “ _ I'm sorry I wished for more ghosts. I'm sorry I was so mad at you for so long after you were gone. I'm sorry you're here. I'm so sorry _ .”

 

“ _ Hey, hey, princess _ ,” David interrupted, reaching out to grab his daughter's shoulders. “ _ What happened was not your fault. None of this was your fault. We love you. And we are okay. _ ”

 

Emma sniffed and nodded, feeling more like a child than she had in years. 

 

“ _ I'm glad that you guys at least have each other. Killian is all alone. I hate that I left him, _ ” she said, wiping the tears from her face before they could start anew.

 

“ _ That vigilante guy? _ ” David bristled.

 

“ _ David _ ,” Mary Margaret admonished. “ _ They're soulmates. You know this. _ ”

 

“ _ Couldn't she have been soulmates with someone else? Like a teacher? Or- or- or like a priest or something? _ ”

 

“ _ Priests are celibate, dear. _ ”

 

“ _ Exactly! _ ”

 

“ _ She  _ loves _ him, David. _ ” 

 

Her father looked adequately chastened when he glanced reluctantly back to where Emma stood.

 

“ _ It's true, _ ” she offered with a half hearted shrug and a small, but genuine smile. David sighed heavily.

 

“ _ All we ever wanted was for you to be happy, _ ” he said softly. Emma smiled and stepped forward to embrace her father again.

 

“ _ I was with him _ ,” she told him truthfully. He hugged her tightly at that. She pulled back and he smiled at her, pressing a firm kiss to her forehead. Her mother reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle tug, tearful smile back in place when Emma looked at her.

 

“ _ Come on, _ ” Mary Margaret said gently. “ _ It's time for you to go where you belong _ .”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides under a rock*


	24. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it guys! This is the very end. I still can't believe it's over. I hope you guys liked it and I couldn't possibly thank you enough for reading and all of your amazing comments. Thank you also to @kmomof4 who has been invaluable during the whole process of writing this and just being an amazing support in general. And super huge thanks to the ever wonderful @courtorderedcake who created the beautiful artwork for this story. She deserves all the love. And away we go!

_ One year later  _

 

Killian Jones sat on his bunk and stared at the wall. The drab beige paint was peeling off the smooth concrete in several places, and Killian's mind began to imagine shapes in it, like one would imagine shapes while watching clouds. It had become a pastime for him, though he couldn't recall when it had begun. For the last year, his life had been reduced to a six foot by eight foot box, shared with another man called “Tiny”, though he was anything but. He didn't know where his cellmate was now, and he didn't care, his mind singularly focused. The slate gray polyester jumpsuit he wore felt stiff against the skin it touched, the thin white t-shirt underneath doing little to prevent the rubbing. He thought briefly about stripping it to the waist, but it wouldn't be much longer now.

 

The TV in the common area was tuned to a local news station, some of the older inmates having commandeered it for their recreation time, as they sat at a single table directly across from his cell. He couldn't see it but he could hear it, not that he was paying any attention. He scanned over the small space with sharp focus, ensuring that anything he had of value was tucked safely into the small box in front of him. Not that he had much. Just a few books, a couple of drawings and letters he'd received, a few plain, white shirts, nothing huge. The rest of them could fight over the remaining items he would leave behind for all he cared. 

 

“ _And in other news out of Boston this morning, 62 year old Weaver Gold was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole after a long and arduous trial,_ ” the reporter on the TV proclaimed, causing Killian's ears to prick up. He turned his head slightly so he could better hear, but remained seated on the bunk. “ _Gold was charged with several counts of assault, kidnapping, murder, and human trafficking, among other violations. This story broke last year when former BPD Detective Emma Nolan headed an undercover investigation into the head of one of Boston's most dangerous criminal empires. More on this story at 11._ _Let's go to Jackie with sports. Jackie?_ ”

 

Killian smirked. It was the least the bastard deserved after all the irreparable damage he'd done to countless lives. He looked around his cell, the cramped space, exposed toilet, bars lining the only exit, and for the first time, the sight made him smile. He couldn't think of a more fitting cage for a crocodile. 

 

The year since Killian had been sentenced for “racketeering” (in reality, the cash laundering scheme he had used to keep his operation afloat was the only thing they could connect back to him) was served uneventfully, for which he was grateful. He kept his head down and stayed mostly to himself, making sure that nothing would delay his release. He had made a promise to go on the straight and narrow and he didn't intend to break it. The police were more than lenient with him considering his own criminal operation. 

 

As part of a plea deal including delivering testimony on Gold, he had received thirty six months in a minimum security federal penitentiary, and Will had received thirty himself.  Jefferson had stayed true to his word and helped them get the best deal possible but with the way everything had gone south, prison time became inevitable. Will had been released after eight months with good behavior to serve out the rest of his sentence on parole, as far as he had heard. He was glad for it. Killian had just had a parole hearing of his own, but he wasn't expecting any such miracles. 

 

Until about an hour ago when a guard had stopped by his cell and told him his parole had been approved. And now he waited. His head was filled with images of his last day of freedom. It had been one of the worst of his life. He had killed a man. Watched other men (and a woman) die. He'd been beaten, broken, tortured for hours. But the thing that stuck out to him the most was Emma's pale and lifeless form in his arms.

 

It had been Milah all over again. Maybe worse, for he couldn't recall a time his soul had physically ached until that moment, like it had known immediately that it was missing its other half. She'd saved him, not only from the bullet, but from himself. He hadn't expected to ever walk away from the dark criminal underbelly alive. But here he was. Maybe he was a survivor after all. He didn't intend to squander a single second Emma had given back to him. 

 

“Jones,” a sharp, commanding voice barked from just behind the bars of his cell. He looked up to see two uniformed guards waiting for him, an older seasoned guard called Spinelli, whom he knew, and a rookie officer that had just started last week. Howard, he thought he recalled. “Cuff up. Time to go.” Killian stood and obediently slid his hand and stump through the slat in the bars, smirking at the look of exasperation on Spinelli's face. 

 

“Problem?” he asked cheekily, his eyebrow quirking up his forehead, and the rookie had to stifle a chuckle in a less than convincing cough, earning him a glare from the older guard and a grin from Killian. 

 

“Be right back,” Spinelli muttered and stomped off towards the pod exit, leaving the rookie and Killian observing one another in silence.

 

“So…” Killian extended the conversation to the young officer, leaning up against the bars.

 

“No talking, inmate,” he replied, underconfident authority in his voice. 

 

“Come, now. Who doesn't bend the rules every now and again?” Killian grinned, his tongue nudging his canine tooth mirthfully.

 

“Is that how you ended up here? All the fun of bending the rules?”

 

“Touché, Howard,” Killian agreed. 

 

“It's Hendricks.”

 

“My mistake, lad. Didn't see a nametag,” he said. The younger man flushed scarlet. 

 

“I forgot it this morning,” he admitted.

 

“Ah. Bit of a rule bender yourself then, aye?” Killian said with a wink and Hendricks bristled. “Don't worry, I won't tell. You'll do alright here, lad. Don't let these bastards get in your head and you'll do just fine.” 

 

“No talking, inmate. Back away from the bars,” snapped Spinelli, who had huffed his way back in front of his cell as Killian finished speaking. Killian rolled his eyes and backed himself towards the bunk again. “Open!” he called out to the command center. A loud buzz rang out and the bars clicked, Spinelli reaching out to hold them shut for the time being.

 

“Palms, er,  _ forearms _ flat on the wall, inmate,” Hendricks commanded. Killian complied. This was the very last time he had to do this. Never again. He'd promised her.

 

After a moment, the bars slid open and Killian was being fitted with what was called “the sleeve”, a mesh wrap with metal buckles in the back that wrapped around his body and secured his stunted arm to his torso, rendering it immobile. He was dressed with a chain around the waist next, a handcuff around his good wrist and the other end secured to the chain. The chain connected to another that hung between his feet where ankle shackles were added and connected as well. Spinelli stepped back, giving him a once over with a nod and a grunt, satisfied with his level of restraint.

 

“There we are, all nice and subdued and ready to leave prison,” Killian quipped. A thrill shot through him as soon as the words “leave prison” had left his lips. The rookie suppressed another chuckle. 

 

“Just walk, Jones,” Spinelli grumbled, seizing him by the arm and leading him from the cell. Hendricks followed with his box of personal effects. 

 

As they walked down the corridors, men yelling, cheering and jeering at him, he couldn't help but feel…  _ excited. _

 

When he got here, he was fresh out of spending the first three months of his sentence in the hospital getting physical therapy on his shoulder, two weeks of which was spent with his fractured jaw wired shut. He’d been arrested before, but prison was an entirely different beast altogether. And yet it was nothing at all, compared to what he'd gone through with Weaver Gold.

 

The day he had shown up at the docks, he had been so sure it was the right move. He had gone to Smee's with Emma and obtained a gun that couldn't be traced back to either of them. The plan was to slip in and kill the man, consequences be damned for the rest. He never expected to make it out alive. He had been  _ so close _ to making it happen when he made one wrong turn and ran smack into Malcolm and Perdu. 

 

He had fought a hell of a fight against them, but the two men eventually overpowered him when Malcolm wrenched his shoulder from its socket. Once again, he had underestimated Gold's influence, by extension to his henchman. It was when he was presented to the man himself like a wrapped gift that he realized just how far he had actually underestimated him. 

 

Gold had wasted no time in his fervor to make Killian suffer. He nearly rejoiced in it. As soon as he was sunk to his knees, Gold smiled, offering a quick ‘Hello, Jones’ and cracking him across the face with the gold handle of his cane. Hence the fractured jaw. The older man was stronger than his looks portrayed. From there on out, it was a series of blows with the cane and taunts with a gun,  _ his _ gun usually. He wasn't sure how long it had gone on for.

 

Then Will was led through the door and his stomach twisted. If Will was there, Emma was no longer safe. He had held on to that last mangled little piece of hope that she was still locked up where he left her, even as Will took a similar beating to the one he had. Right up until Emma marched out from behind those crates and everything went to hell.

 

He clenched his jaw at the memory as the door buzzed to let him in to the discharge area. Spinelli left his side, taking the box and setting it on a dented metal table next to them, but Hendricks remained, and he opened a locker to retrieve a standard set of street clothes for Killian. Jeans, a gray sweatshirt, and a set of laceless athletic shoes were set on the metal table beside the box as Hendricks worked on getting him unbound. 

 

“Strip,” Spinelli instructed as soon as he was free of his chains and the sleeve. Killian had never moved faster to take off his clothes in front of two men in his life. Hendricks set about gathering his discarded jumpsuit and underthings, shaking them out and inspecting them as Spinelli stepped back towards Killian, who stood, hand clasped over his stump before him, naked as the day he was born. 

 

“Arms out, mouth open,” Spinelli ordered. Killian did so, reminding himself for the hundredth time this was the last time he would ever have to do this. Spinelli searched his mouth with a tongue depressor, eyes scanning over every inch of his body to make sure he didn't have anything hidden. As if anyone would sneak something  _ out _ of prison, but he was sure stranger things had happened. “Squat and cough,” he instructed next. Killian set his jaw and did that, too. Spinelli nodded. “Get dressed.”

 

Killian did so and Hendricks walked around him, putting things away. Once he was dressed, he picked up the box with his meager belongings and waited. Spinelli scanned his ID card and the metal door opposite to the one they had entered through buzzed and opened with a loud clank. They reached another door at the end of a short hallway. When Spinelli opened it, daylight flooded in from beyond the floor to ceiling windows that lined the room. 

 

People milled about on the other side of the glass, waiting for a visit or for someone to answer their questions. The door at the end of the glass lined hallway led directly outside. He walked between Hendricks and Spinelli and they waited for clearance at the end of the hall before he stepped out the door into the yard. The two guards escorted him to the fenceline and opened the gate.

 

“Well, gentlemen, I'd say it was a pleasure, but frankly, I hope I never see either of you again,” he said, only half joking. Hendricks did chuckle at that and even Spinelli offered him a begrudging smile.

 

“Best of luck, Jones,” the older guard said and Killian nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes already set forward and searching for his future.

 

Killian Jones took his first free steps in over a year out the front gate, simply taking a moment to breathe it all in. 

 

The rumble of a familiar engine had his head turning in a second, just in time to see a small, yellow Volkswagen Bug pulling up to the curb. Sunshine colored hair and a flushed face popped out of the driver's side door and Killian couldn't have held back his grin if he’d tried.

 

Emma's brilliant green eyes set on him and she smiled.

 

“Somebody order a getaway car?” she asked, walking around the front of the car towards him. Killian didn't care who was watching. He dropped the box of things that didn't matter to the pavement and rushed forward to the only thing that did, scooping her up in his arms and sealing lips over hers in a kiss that took both of their breath away. 

 

His arms looped around her waist and he lifted her, her head falling back and laughing as her hands found purchase on his shoulders. He spun them around, resting his forehead against hers, refusing to let her go, not that she was even trying to escape. 

 

“Hi,” she murmured, reaching up to cup his cheek, her thumb stroking over his less than immaculately groomed beard.

 

“Hi,” he replied, nuzzling into her touch, still a little disbelieving that she was here, alive, in his arms. 

 

Emma had coded twice in the ambulance once medics were able to get to her and three more times in surgery to repair the damage in her abdomen. The last time had been the closest call. The doctor had been ready to call time of death, but Emma's heart inexplicably started beating again all on its own. No one could explain it. They had called it a miracle.

 

It had been a long road to recovery for her as well, but if nothing else, Emma Nolan was a fighter. She had completed grueling amounts of physical therapy and mental health evaluations, but she had never wasted a single second with Killian. Phone calls, letters, visits every weekend (with accompanying one hour drive both ways), Emma never complained, and Killian wouldn't be where he was without her. In every way possible. 

 

Emma was released from the police force shortly after the incident, before she had even come home from the hospital. They had cited “medical reasons”, for which her resumé was grateful, but she had broken so much procedure it wasn't like she hadn't seen it coming. The women she saved had been worth it. Will was worth it. Killian was worth it. She and Will had set out to found a nonprofit for missing people, a sizeable donation from one Ivy Belfrey getting them off the ground, and she was happier now than she had ever been. 

 

“You can't park there!” a voice shouted at them and they both turned from their embrace to see a stern looking woman in uniform on a golf cart motioning to her car. Emma waved at her in understanding as Killian set her back on her feet. 

 

“Ready to get out of here?” she asked.

 

“Aye, my love,” he replied with a grin and another quick kiss.

 

“It's just you and me now.”

 

“I wouldn't have it any other way,  _ agrà _ .”

 

The two got in the car and drove away, the scent of sea salt and jasmine following them on the breeze.

 

And when she brought him home to meet Ruby, the force of nature that was her best friend may or may not have actually passed out seeing the man from Emma's sketchbook come to life. But that was a discussion for another day. 

 


End file.
